Not Quite Marty Stu
by Anpwhotep
Summary: They thought he was a muggle when they met him, but learned he's actually a wizard who was never taught how to use his magic. The results are amusing, confusing, and more trouble with the law.
1. Chapter 1

Harry gaped in shock at the fat, middle-aged muggle who was currently beating a Death Eater to within an inch of his life with an ordinary cane. Somehow, he had managed to shrug off no less than three cruciatus curses and go on the attack while Harry had taken down the other Death Eaters.

"All I wanted was a quiet day in the country," the muggle complained as he shattered the Death Eater's mask and the bones beneath it. "Was that too much to ask for? It's not bad enough England's overrun by MUNDANE thugs, it's got to be overrun by spellslinging thugs, too?"

The muggle spun his cane and planted the tip in the Death Eater's chest with a sickening crunch, then brought it back and finished the job by swinging it in an arc that caught his target in the temple. The Death Eater flew over a meter before landing in a boneless heap.

"Cor, mate!" Ron exclaimed. "That was brilliant!"

The muggle spun to face them, his cane held as if he expected to have to use it again. "Are you cops? Well, don't expect me to go down as easy as Mark Barnsley."

"Mark who?" Harry asked as he walked toward the muggle. "I just want to know how you did it."

"Did what?" The muggle asked. He glared at Harry the way Moody did when he was fresh in from the field. He glanced at the dead Death Eater. "That? I just kept hitting him until he stopped moving."

"How did you fight him, though?" Harry asked. "How did you stay on your feet and keep fighting?"

"Huh?" The muggle stared at Harry as if he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean? He attacked me, so I fought back. I'd do it back home, and you can be damned sure I'll do it here in England, too. I don't care if self-defense IS against the law."

"Against the law?" Ron blurted, shocked.

"Never mind that," Harry said. "I want to know how you kept fighting after three cruciatus curses."

"Cruciatus curses?" the muggle asked. "Oh! Is that what those were supposed to be? Huh. All they did was piss me off."

"But HOW?" Harry demanded. "Anyone else would have been writhing on the ground after just one. You were hit by THREE!"

"Five, actually, but who's counting?" the muggle sighed as he leaned on his cane and limped toward a daypack laying on the ground near Long Meg. "I take it you're NOT cops, then?"

"No," Harry said. "We're quidditch players."

"Well then," the muggle said as he rummaged through the pack, pulled out a bottle of water and a pill bottle, then washed down two pills, "I hope you don't mind if we briskly walk away before the cops arrive."

The crack of aurors arriving caused the muggle to drop his water and drop back into a crouch with his cane held defensively. Harry ran to put himself between the aurors and the muggle.

"Tonks!" Harry yelled in relief as he saw who was leading the arriving team. "What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" Tonks asked with a laugh. "Harry, it's been less than two minutes since we got the alert. So how many casualties are there?" She looked around, the laughter fading quickly as she scanned for victims.

"Six Death Munchers," Harry said, "and one muggle who took five crucios."

"FIVE?" Tonks squeaked. "Poor sod. Guess we'd better alert St. Mungo's, then."

"St. Mungo's," the muggle laughed. "Sounds like the name of a hospital. I doubt they'll be much use, but why not?"

"Who's your friend, Harry?" Tonks asked seriously.

"He's the muggle I'm talking about," Harry said. He turned to the muggle. "My name's Harry Potter, by the way."

"Fred MacManus," the muggle said as he leaned on his cane again. "I take it my nice quiet day in the country is shot for good, huh?"

"Sorry about that, mate," Ron said as he stuck out his hand. "Ron Weasley. You have GOT to teach me those moves?"

"Teach?" Fred laughed as he shook Ron's hand. "What's to teach? I just reacted. If he hadn't pissed me off like that..."

"Yeah, that's their specialty," Ron said. "Usually it's Harry who's doing the arse-kicking, though."

"Tonks," one of the other aurors called from where he was examining Fred's Death Eater. "This one looks like he was bludgeoned to death."

"His grasp of the obvious is astounding," Fred muttered. Ron and Harry looked at each other and broke into laughter.

"Harry?" Tonks asked quietly. "You sure this bloke took five crucios?"

"Positive," Harry said. Ron nodded in agreement. "We saw it happen. All they did was make him angry."

"Cor...," Tonks breathed, staring at Fred in amazement.

"I don't see what's so amazing," Fred said with a blush and a shrug. "Do people in England have a low pain threshold or something?"

"Low...pain...threshold..." Tonks choked. "Mr. MacManus, would you consent to come with us to St. Mungo's? If our healers could get a clue as to how you were able to shake off that particular curse, it could help more people than you can imagine."

"Well, as long as it doesn't involve your famous British 'justice', I might as well," Fred sighed. "This trip's ruined, anyway."

"He sounds like you, talking about Dumbledore," Ron said with a grin as he elbowed Harry.

Tonks scowled and pulled a yo-yo out of her robes. "If you'd take hold of this, Mr. MacManus, we can be on our way."

"I'd have thought a medical teleport tag would be something a bit less...playful," Fred chuckled as he reached for the toy. "Is Patch Adams one of you?"

"Patch Adams?" Ron asked as Fred vanished.

"Hell if I know, mate," Harry replied with a shrug. "Meet you there."

"Harry!" Tonks called, just as he was about to disapparate. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "I have no idea. But somehow, I think we can trust him more than we can trust Scrimgeour."

"Harry!" Tonks exclaimed in mock-horror. "That's the Minister you're talking about!"

"And your point is?" Harry grinned and made the jump to St. Mungo's.

"You know, this is REALLY getting tiring!" Fred snarled when Harry had cast a rennervate on him. "As if your magical thugs aren't bad enough, now I'm getting attacked by HOSPITAL STAFF?"

"I'll have a chat with Tonks about that," Harry said. "She should have warned them you were coming."

"That's no excuse," Fred fumed. "Do I LOOK like one of those masked bozos? Or does your hospital service have the same itchy trigger fingers as your cops? I swear, Burgess wasn't HALF as cutting as he should have been."

"Whoa, mate," Harry said. "I don't know who this Burgess is, but what does that have to do with St. Mungo's?"

"I took your friend's teleport tag," Fred growled, "and the next thing I know, that blonde bint over there hits me with some spell that knocks me out!"

Harry looked at the welcome witch, who shrugged and said, "We can't just have muggles popping in without warning. There are sick people here."

"Auror Tonks sent him," Harry said quietly. "Didn't you bother to check the signature on the portkey?"

"Uh, no," the welcome witch said with a blush. "But he's a muggle!"

"A muggle who stood up to five crucios," Harry said. "We're going up to the fourth floor."

Harry turned to Fred and said quietly, "Let's go, before I do something I'll regret." He led the way to the stairs and started up. A moment later, Fred followed, still grumbling under his breath.

"You've only had to put up with them for a half hour," Harry said as they passed the magical diseases floor. "I've had to put up with them since I was 11 years old."

"And you haven't told them all to sod off and die?" Fred asked, in the first tone of wonder Harry had heard from him. "You must have the patience of a saint."

"Far from it," Harry laughed. "I just have good friends to make up for the idiots."

"Friends, not fans?" Fred asked. "I saw the way people were watching you down there."

"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. "Ever since I killed Voldemort, it's been like that. Until Ron and Hermione came up with a way to improve security, I was on the verge of being sacked by the Cannons. Can't blame them, really. When you can't even count on your locker room being safe from rabid fans, you can hardly be expected to play your best."

"Otaku," Fred snorted. "Figures. And all because you killed some guy with a penchant for bad French?"

"Bad French?" Harry asked, then laughed. "Yeah, that would fit Tom."

"So his real name was Tom, huh?" Fred snickered. "Rule #250 from the Evil Overlord List."

"Arthur would love you, you know," Harry laughed as he reached for the door to the spell damage floor. "He's just wild for all things muggle."

"I gather you all use 'muggle' the way I use 'mundane', eh?" Fred asked as he stepped through, only to run into the fourth floor's most infamous resident.

"Of course I'll give you my autograph," Gilderoy Lockhart said as he handed Fred a photograph. "Only one to a visitor, though. Can't deny others their chance, after all."

"Gilderoy, you naughty boy!" a middle-aged witch in green robes bustled up and took Mr. Lockhart by the arm. "You know you have to save your pictures for the IMPORTANT guests, or you'll run out!"

"Oh, you are so right," Lockhart said as the witch led him away. "Wouldn't want to disappoint the Ministers, would we?"

"A little lacking?" Fred murmured as he watched them head down the hallway.

"Memory charm backfired," Harry said. "He erased everything but his ego."

"Memory charm, huh?" Fred asked quietly, then turned to glare at Harry. "If I even THINK someone is planning to use one of those on me, I'll do to him - or her - the same thing I did to that bozo in the mask. I will not have my mind raped."

Harry took a step back in shock. He'd never seen that kind of reaction from anyone before. "Hey, the Ministry says they're legal."

"What does LEGAL have to do with it?" Fred growled. "Rape is immoral, whether it's physical or mental. And that's exactly what you're talking about - raping someone's mind."

Fred's watch beeped before Harry could come up with an answer - not that he could; the vehemence of the assertion had thrown him completely off balance - and Fred grumbled. "Damn."

"Damn?" Harry asked as Fred swung his bag off his shoulder and set it on one of the hallway tables. "Wait a minute! How is it your watch works in here?"

"Huh?" Fred grunted distractedly as he pulled out a small nylon pouch, opened it up, took out an electronic device and stuck a strip of plastic in it, then stared at it for a moment with an annoyed growl. Suddenly, the device beeped and he nodded. "About time." Within a few moments, he had pricked his finger with a spring-loaded pen and applied blood to the tip of the plastic strip.

"Damn! Figures." Fred grumbled and rooted through his bag again, then pulled out a roll of Life Savers and popped several in his mouth. "Oh, good. I was afraid I'd lost these, and glucose tablets taste AWFUL. Want some?"

"Glucose tablets?" Harry asked, while staring at the strange device that had, amazingly WORKED inside St. Mungo's. He reached out automatically to accept a candy.

"Yeah. My blood sugar was down to 70," Fred said. "Bad plan for me. I get really irritable when it drops below 100." He noticed Harry staring at his device and laughed. "You've never seen a glucometer before?"

"I've never seen an electronic device work inside St. Mungo's before," Harry said. "How did you do it?"

"Huh. I wouldn't think that energy band would affect a self-contained device," Fred muttered, then shrugged. "Hell if I know. It didn't want to start up at first, but after I gave it a good glare, it took right off."

"And your watch?"

"Battery's most likely been dead for 10 years. I never saw a reason to change it as long as it kept working." Fred snorted. "Could be worse. I know a doctor who has to use a wireless keyboard and large screen on her computer, because if she gets within 6 feet of the cpu, it self-destructs."

"Is she a witch?" Harry asked.

"Nah," Fred said. "She has fibro, just like me."

"Fibro? What's that?" Harry asked as he noticed Tonks and Ron coming in from the stairway.

"Fibromyalgia. It's a neurological disorder," Fred said with a shrug. "Imagine your brain permanently stuck on hypersensitive, so that what other people feel as mere sensation, you feel as pain."

"You mean...?" Harry asked as a horrible implication came to mind.

"Yeah," Fred laughed harshly. "There's your great dark secret. Those curses you all are so afraid of don't hurt any worse than what I normally feel when I run out of pain meds. In fact, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being a mother's kiss and 10 being the worst pain I've ever felt personally, those curses didn't rank more than an 8, and my normal pain WITH pain meds is about a 6."

"Merlin!" Tonks breathed in awe.

"I don't see what the big deal is," Fred shrugged. "It's not like I'm the only one who has it, and I know people who have it worse. At least I'm able to get out and do things now and then. I have a friend who has it so bad she can't leave her bed without help."

"Mr. Potter," an older witch said as she approached the group, "would you mind explaining why you've brought a muggle up here?"

"The muggle," Fred growled as he turned to glare at the witch, "has a name. The muggle is tired of being spoken of as if he were nothing more than a trained monkey."

Harry reached out to catch Tonks as she started forward, and shook his head while giving her a smile. This promised to be good, and he didn't want anyone to interfere.

"I don't care what your name is," the witch said. "This hospital is for witches and wizards only."

"Odd," Fred drawled, "I'd been under the impression it was for those who were suffering from magical injuries and maladies. Are you going to say that a muggle cannot suffer from those? Such as, say, the oh-so-terrible cruciatus curse?"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about!" the witch declared. "You should not speak so lightly about things you don't understand."

"What's to understand?" Fred shrugged. "It hurts. Pissed me off. I killed one of the guys who did it to me."

"You...killed...," the witch trailed off and stared at Fred, then looked at Tonks. "Auror Tonks?"

"Beat him to death with his cane," Tonks said. "After taking five crucios, according to Harry and Ron."

"Impossible!" the witch insisted. "No wizard could withstand that much pain and remain sane, let alone a muggle!"

"Possible or not," Harry said, "it happened. We need to understand how."

"What's to understand?" Fred asked with a shrug. "It's not like I haven't hurt that much before. If I hadn't seen the bastard cast the spell, I would have just figured I'd overdone it and taken something to get myself back to my room. Speaking of which, I assume we're not in Cumbria any more, so would someone mind picking up my stuff? It's at Langstanes, in Langwathby. And while you're at it, my car is still parked by Long Meg. Do any of you drive? I'll need it returned if I'm ever going to rent another car."

"I drive," Ron said. Tonks snickered, and Harry groaned. "Hey! That time back in second year doesn't count!"

"I'll grant you that," Harry laughed. "You have gotten better since then. Just remember, it's a muggle car, not like your dad's."

Fred rolled his eyes, dug in his waist pack and pulled out a key on an inn's key fob and a rental car key. Ron took the keys and headed for the stairs.

"So what's the joke?" Fred asked. "His dad's car fly or something? That'd really be a pain. No proper flight controls and it'd have to be tuned to one driver for mental control. Anyone else would probably drive it into a tree."

Harry stared at Fred. "How did you know?"

"It just made sense." Fred shrugged, then snapped his attention to the elderly witch as she cast a diagnostic spell. "As I told him, if I even THINK you're casting any kind of memory spell on me, I WILL kill you. That's not a threat. That's a guarantee. I will not have my mind raped."

"Well, you can relax," the witch snapped back. "This is just a simple diagnostic spell." She stared at Fred and shook her head. "And it makes no sense. If you would come with me to my office, I have more detailed diagnostics I'd like to try."

"All right," Fred said with a shrug. "Lead the way. So tell me, does the witch have a name?"

The witch gave Fred a narrow glare, then laughed. "I suppose I deserved that. My name is Heloise Chadwick. And yours is?"

"Fred MacManus," Fred answered with a smile, as he fell in behind Ms. Chadwick. "So how much of what you got can be explained by arthritis, diabetes, fibromyalgia, or Aspergers syndrome?"

"I have no idea," Ms. Chadwick said as she opened her office door and walked in. "Mostly because I don't know what any of those are. My specialty has always been spell-caused injuries. Care to enlighten me?"

"Well," Fred said as he took the chair in front of her desk, "arthritis is when the cartilage in your joints gets worn beyond the ability of your body to repair it. Diabetes is when your body cannot process the sugar in your food, so it builds up in your blood stream until it becomes poisonous. Fibromyalgia is where your brain is stuck permanently on 'hypersensitive', so that everything becomes a source of physical pain. And Asperger's is kind of like fibromyalgia, except the pain is emotional, rather than physical. There's a lot more to the last two, but those explanations are a good starting point, and if you understand them, you can usually deduce the problems that stem from them."

"Given your descriptions," Ms. Chadwick said, "I'd have to say I can explain most of what I got. But it doesn't explain the high levels of opium and adrenaline in your system, or some of the stranger anomalies."

"Well," Fred said, "I can't explain the anomalies, but I'd say the adrenaline is from the fight, and I should come crashing down any time now, and the opium is probably how your magic registers the oxycodone I take for pain relief. And before you ask, oxycodone is a synthetic opiate, not a real opium extract like morphine, so I couldn't give you even a hint as to how they make it. All I know is that it's more effective than morphine, and without it I wouldn't have been able to make this trip in the first place."

"Is that what you took after the fight?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Fred said. "I have two different pain meds. Oxycontin, which is a sustained release version of oxycodone, and generic oxycodone, which hits as fast as any other ordinary pill. I use the one to maintain my pain level at about a 6 on my ten-scale, and I use the other if I get some acute pain that the first can't control."

"And muggles came up with it?" Ms. Chadwick asked. "Amazing!"

"Not really," Fred grumbled. "We don't have magic to make our lives easier, so we have to use our brains."

"Hold it," Harry said suddenly. "Before you two get into it, you're both right. Yes, it's amazing muggles came up with such an effective pain reliever. It's amazing ANYONE has something that effective. But you should expect it of muggles, Ms. Chadwick, since they don't have magic to heal their ailments as easily as we can. Mr. Pye, down in the Llewellyn Ward, can probably tell you quite a bit about muggle healing methods."

"I've heard about them," Ms. Chadwick sniffed. "Imagine! Stitches! As if the human body were a sewing project!"

"Stitches can be pretty damned useful," Fred said, holding out his left hand. "See the index finger? My father sawed it off when I was 2. The hospital sewed what we left of it back on. Thanks to stitches, I have a finger."

"I...see," Ms. Chadwick said, visibly shaken.

"Eh," Fred shrugged. "The bastard got what was coming to him in the end. Even if it wasn't nearly slow or painful enough."

"Uh...," Harry asked slowly, not sure if he wanted to know, but unable to restrain his curiosity, "what happened?"

"He died," Fred said brightly. "Pulmonary fibrosis."

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"Lung fibers," Ms. Chadwick said. "Or fibrous lungs. I don't quite follow."

"Imagine," Fred said, "all the tissues in your lungs turn into scar tissue. When it finally got bad enough for him to admit he was sick and check into a hospital, he lasted about a week, even while breathing pure oxygen. In effect, he died of suffocation." He shrugged. "Like I said, not nearly slow or painful enough."

Harry nodded slowly. He'd felt the same way about Vernon enough times to have some idea of what Fred meant, but he'd never been able to speak it aloud.

"What kind of monster...?" Ms. Chadwick asked softly.

"The kind of monster who didn't even have the excuse of drink for his enjoyment of beating his only son, or attempting to molest his daughters," Fred said. "Now, what strange anomalies did you find with your spell, and what do you propose to do to find explanations for them?"

"So why are you all sitting here?" Hermione asked as she approached Harry, Tonks, and Ron where they were sitting outside Ms. Chadwick's office.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks said with a grin. "Harry's got a new friend, and we're waiting for the healer to get done with him."

"Him, huh?" Hermione replied with a smile as she drew up a chair next to Ron. "I guess Ginny doesn't have to worry, then."

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to answer, just as the door opened and Fred came out.

"You sure I can't hire you as my doctor?" Fred asked with a laugh. "You've found out more in four hours than my doctor back home has in four years. Then again, you've actually LOOKED, which is more than I can say for him."

"I'm sorry we can't do more for you, Mr. MacManus," Ms. Chadwick said, "but I'm afraid we would have had to start 30 years ago for it to have done any good."

"Well, shit happens, you know?" Fred said with a shrug. "You're sure these potions won't interact badly with the meds I'm already taking?"

"I may not be a potions master," Ms. Chadwick said with a smile, "but I do know enough to check for those kinds of interactions. Usually it's magical interactions I'm worried about, but I believe in this case, they'll still be safe."

"Can't hurt," Fred said. "And don't forget what I said about your patients. If they're in that much pain, you can't beat fentanyl. It's the most potent painkiller we have. Even stronger than the stuff I take. Only problem is you can only get it in an injection or a patch. But if they can't swallow, that's not such a problem, is it?"

"No," Ms. Chadwick said. "No, it isn't. Thank you very much, Mr. MacManus. I hope your next visit is under much better circumstances."

"Hold on a sec," Fred said and pulled a pen and a device about the size of a large pocket calculator out of his waist pack. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry grinned and waved her to silence as Fred flipped the cover back off its face and tapped it with his pen, which appeared to have a solid plastic tip at this point. "Ok, give me a minute here."

"It'll never--" Hermione started.

"Trust me, Hermione," Harry said, "you'll want to watch this."

Fred pulled the base of the device, and it slid back to reveal a tiny keyboard below the area he had been tapping on. After pressing a couple keys, he slid the base closed again and tapped on the screen with his pen. Suddenly, it lit up, and he quickly tapped a pattern on it, paused, then tapped it again.

"All right," he asked as he tapped on the screen, then slide open the keyboard, "now what were those instructions again?"

"Take the purple potion with each meal," Ms. Chadwick said, pausing when she saw Fred alternating between tapping on his keyboard and scribing on the screen, then continuing when he raised his eyes to her. "The green potion with breakfast, and the black potion before bed. With the purple potion, you may have to keep a closer watch on your blood sugar, so be sure to keep some candies on hand, just in case. And show me your log next week when you come back, so I can see what adjustments we need to make."

"Got it," Fred said, looking up. "How about the red potion?"

"That's for emergencies," Ms. Chadwick said, then smiled. "But DO try to not get into any more fights with Death Eaters, won't you? I'm sure the aurors would be greatly relieved."

Fred laughed and nodded as he closed his device and tucked it away in his waist pack. "I'll try to remember that. I suppose that means my trip to Castle Forbes is right out, eh?"

"I don't see why it should be," Ms. Chadwick said, "but why would you be interested in going there?"

"Well, you see," Fred said, "my great-grandmother was Zelpha Allen, of Clan Forbes. I was hoping to find more complete records than I got from my mother by going through whatever might be there."

"Did you say Zelpha Allen?" Ms. Chadwick asked, a look of surprise on her face. "Zelpha Allen, who moved to America and married Ernest Zemke?"

"You knew her?" Fred asked, looking just as surprised.

"Knew her?" Ms. Chadwick exclaimed. "I went to school with her! Oh my, this means I'm going to have to completely reconsider the results of my examination."

"Will it change your instructions?" Fred asked with a sigh.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," Ms. Chadwick said. "It just means that your results make a lot more sense now, and I have a much larger selection of references to work with, knowing you come from a wizard family."

"So the old stories of there being seers and werewolves in the family weren't so crazy after all?" Fred asked.

"Not werewolves," Ms. Chadwick laughed. "Animagi. Zelpha was a seer, though. She never did have much luck with transfiguration. I'll show you some pictures of us when we were in school when you come back next week. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Fred said with a smile. "I really do appreciate it." He turned and noticed the crowd on chairs outside the office and laughed. "For me? You shouldn't have. So did you have any trouble getting my stuff?"

"None at all, mate," Ron said, pulling a shrunken canvas bag out of his pocket. "Got it all right here. So, do you have a room in London?"

"I have one reserved for next week," Fred said. "My plans had been to leave Cumbria tomorrow and drive up to Aberdeen. I have a room at Castle Forbes for the next week, and had planned to spend most of that time researching, with a couple trips out to see if I could get lucky enough to find and make friends with Nessie and to pick up some Lochanorra."

"Oh, aye," Ms. Chadwick laughed. "He's an Allen, all right. Zelpha had the same fool notion. Never did manage it, though. Well, you young people go take care of what you need to, then. I have some calls to make." She bustled back into her office and closed the door.

"Since you don't have a room for tonight," Hermione said, "why don't you stay with Ron and I?"

"All right...," Fred said slowly, giving Ron a questioning look. Ron smiled and shrugged, as if to say, "don't look at me, mate."

"I'm Hermione Weasley," Hermione said, extending a hand. "I'd really like to know how you managed to make your PDA work, here in St. Mungo's."

"Fred MacManus," Fred said, taking her hand with a bemused expression. "I'm afraid I don't understand. You and Harry both seemed surprised. Him by my watch and glucometer, and you by my Zaurus. Is there some kind of suppressing field in here that prevents electronics from working?"

"Something like that," Hermione said. "Magic and electronics don't get along. Even simple devices like telephones don't do well in areas with a lot of magical activity."

"Hell if I know," Fred said, then grinned as he noticed the look of relief on Ron's face. "Tell me something, Hermione. Are you a Mad?"

"Am I a what?" Hermione asked, as she stood to join the others in walking toward the stairs.

"A Mad," Fred said with a laugh. "Not sure what you'd call them in the wizard world, but they're the people who spend their days in the laboratory and their nights poring over books and journals, searching for just the right bit of information to make their latest theory fall into place. They're the ones who believe that - excuse me, I have to get the pose and intonation just right here - " He stopped and threw out his chest, stuck out his chin, and intoned in a voice that sounded to Harry like it was intended to be as hokey as possible, "SCIENCE can Save the World!"

Harry looked at Ron, who was turning almost as purple as Tonks' hair in his attempts to not laugh, and lost any hope he had of holding in his own laughter. The two of them leaned on each other until the fit of laughter had passed, only to see Hermione's annoyed expression and break into fresh laughter.

"Huh," Fred said with a shrug. "I didn't think it was THAT funny. Hell, I'd be a Mad, too, if I weren't too sick - and too poor - to work on any of my ideas. Instead, all I can do is write about them and hope someone else has the resources to pick up where I pointed."

"Fred," Tonks said with a grin, as Hermione grew progressively redder, "you are talking about the woman who, when she was 12 years old, using nothing more than a book from the school library as a guide, created a potion that most potions masters find difficult to make. And she did it in an abandoned loo - not even a real lab. I'd say she fits your definition quite nicely."

"Thanks." Fred grinned. "At least I know what I'm letting myself in for. So is there a good place to eat around here? We had tea in Ms. Chadwick's office, but I really do need to eat something before my blood sugar gets low enough for me to get cranky."

"Would a snack keep you up to snuff?" Tonks asked. "There's a tearoom just upstairs. It's hospital food, so I don't recommend it, but if you're desperate..."

"I'm not THAT desperate," Fred laughed. "Not yet, at least. I'm in the mood for something solid, but that's just because I haven't really eaten since this morning. That was good, though. Bangers and mash. Reminds me of my own 'heart attack on a plate' recipe. Sticks with you for hours."

"Well," Tonks said, "if you thought that made a good breakfast, there's a pub not far from here that'll do for dinner."

"Lead on, then," Fred said. "Just don't send me first, wherever it is. I have no desire to get knocked out at the next stop like I got knocked out here."

"Uh, yeah," Tonks said, blushing. "Sorry about that. I didn't realize she'd be so ready to stun you like that."

"Well, now you know," Fred said. "And now I know to not take one of those teleport tags without knowing if I'll get a friendly reception first."

"It's a portkey, actually," Hermione said. "Unlike a teleport tag, it's the spell on the key itself that moves you, rather than a remote teleportation device."

"Yeah. So is that how we're getting to this pub?"

"Nope," Tonks said with a grin. "We're going by floo."

"Are you sure about that?" Hermione asked.

"You heard her," Tonks said. "He's a wizard. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Famous last words," Fred muttered. Harry and Ron, just returning to the party, heard Fred's mutter and began snickering again. "And you two aren't helping matters any. All right, Tonks, what do I need to do?"

Tonks led the way up to the tearoom and across to its fireplace. She opened a tin on the mantle and took out a handful of silvery powder.

"Now, what you do is throw a handful of this into the fire, then step in and state your destination. Remember to keep your elbows in until you arrive, and step out of the fireplace at the other end right away, so you don't block it for someone else."

"Right...," Fred drawled. "This, I HAVE to see. So what's the destination?"

"The Leaky Cauldron," Tonks said, then demonstrated her meaning by using the floo.

"Green flames, huh?" Fred commented. "And obviously they don't burn..." He shrugged, threw a handful of powder into the fire and stepped in. "The Leaky Cauldron."

"Why don't you go ahead, Harry?" Hermione suggested. "I'd like to ask Ron a few questions before we catch up to you."

Harry took the hint and quickly went for the floo, landing almost on top of Fred on the other side.

"Oy, Harry!" Tonks laughed. "That's two of you can't stand up on a floo trip."

"That's it," Fred grumbled as he used his cane to lever himself up off the floor. "Next time, I take the Underground."

Tonks laughed as she led Fred and Harry to a table and waved over a barmaid. "Wotcher, Agnes! Butterbeer for everyone and a menu for the grumpy old fart."

"I got your grumpy old fart right here," Fred grumbled, bringing more laughter from Tonks. "Is she always like this?"

"Usually," Harry said with a chuckle. "Get her around Remus, though, and she really cuts loose."

"Oh gods," Fred groaned, as Tonks stuck her tongue out at Harry. "I don't think I want to know."

"Careful you don't make that offer when Ginny's around," Harry said with a grin. "Speaking of which, I'll be back in a few. Try not to scare poor Fred off completely, ok?"

"I have no idea what you mean!" Tonks protested, with a poor attempt at an innocent expression.

"Uh-huh. Sure." Harry shook his head as he walked out the back door.

Once in Diagon Alley, Harry headed for number 93 and ducked to the left immediately inside the door. When nothing happened, he started for the back of the store, dodging the usual mobs of excited children and embarrassed adults.

"Harry!" Fred called out with a grin while George was ringing up a sale. "What brings you to our humble shop?"

"Just want to use your floo," Harry said. "I don't want Ginny worrying about why I'm not home."

"Out with some tart, are you?" Fred asked with a grin. "I wouldn't want to have to get my shovel, now."

"Your...shovel?" Harry asked, wondering what insanity was bouncing around Fred's brain this time.

"My shovel," Fred said gravely. "The one I'll use to beat you to death if you cheat on my little sister."

"OK," Harry said. "Who are you, and what did you do with my brother-in-law? That threat was way too unimaginative to be real."

"Told you no good would come of watching that muggle box," George said absently.

"That muggle...you got that off the telly?" Harry asked, disbelieving.

"Hey!" Fred protested. "It worked for Xander!"

"Xander?" Harry asked as he dredged his memory for any hint of the reference. "Who's Xander?"

"Xander Harris," George answered, looking up from the till to roll his eyes behind Fred's back. "The muggle who attracts demons the way you attract Death Munchers, on Buffy, the Vampire Slayer."

"Buffy? The Vampire Slayer?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Do I...no, I really don't think I do want to know. Look, I'm on my way to fetch Ginny, so TRY to keep things to your usual level of insanity?

"Insane? Us?" Fred asked innocently, then looked at George. "I do believe, dear brother, that he called us insane."

"Seems rather like an insult to the insane, innit?" George answered.

"That it does," Fred agreed. "We'll have to work harder."

Harry shook his head with a smile and slipped past the twins into the back room, where their fireplace was. A quick floo home, and he was picking himself up off the living room floor and dusting himself off.

"Ginny! Are you home yet?"

"Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby popped into the room and hugged Harry's leg excitedly. "Mistress Weezy asked Dobby to tell Master Harry that he should not wait dinner for her because she is working on a new project she just got today."

"Did she say what the project was, Dobby?" Harry asked, wondering what could have been so important - or interesting - that it kept Ginny at work when even Hermione had joined Ron at the hospital.

"MIstress Weezy says that Master Harry Potter will be proud of her!" Dobby exclaimed.

"I already am proud of her," Harry murmured, then spoke to Dobby. "Dobby, would you find Ginny and tell her that I'm at the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and Hermione and Tonks and a new friend she hasn't met yet?"

"Dobby will find Mistress Weezy and tell her for Master Harry Potter!" Dobby declared, just before he vanished with a sharp crack.

Harry smiled as he flooed back to the Leaky Cauldron, even after picking himself up off the floor and returning to the table where Ron and Hermione had already joined Tonks and Fred.

"...so for all I know, there could have been a letter," Fred was saying, "but the sperm donor was such a control freak that when he came back from Vietnam, he took a job as an aide in the hospital the egg donor was a patient in, just so he could monitor what she did in the hospital. The idea of him letting any of us kids attend any kind of boarding school that wasn't a military school would have been unthinkable."

"You sure he wasn't a Dursley, mate?" Ron asked. "That sounds like the kind of hell Harry had to put up with."

"I thought your name was Potter, not Dursley," Fred said between bites of shepherd pie.

"Dursley was my aunt's husband," Harry said quietly. "I lived with them until I was of age, except when I was at Hogwarts or the Burrow. My parents were killed by Voldemort when I was a little over a year old."

"And your parents loved you," Fred said quietly. "Hold tight to that truth. The concept is one I'm still trying to learn how to understand."

"Which one?" Harry asked. "Truth? Or Love?"

"Love," Fred said. "I've never had a problem with truth. Except maybe being too ready to stick to the truth when other people would rather I lie. Got kicked out of the Air Force because of that."

"You were in the military?" Hermione asked, with a look of surprise on her face.

"Twenty years ago," Fred said. "Joined up because it was the only way to get by after I ran out of money and had to drop out of Bible college. I was still healthy enough to get in, back then. And about 250 pounds lighter than I am now."

"So all the weight is recent?" Ron asked, then grunted as Hermione elbowed him.

"Yeah," Fred said with a shrug. "After my fibro got bad enough to mess up my sleep, I started gaining weight - even when I was still healthy enough to walk 3 miles a day. When it got so bad I couldn't lift a coffee mug without fear of dropping it, I put on 100 pounds within a few months. After I started insulin, I put on another 100 pounds." He sat back with a cup of tea and sighed. "And you've just seen me eat the largest meal I've had in over a year."

"That was the largest meal you've eaten in a year?" Tonks asked, shocked. "Prisoners eat more than that!"

"Yup," Fred said. "I just don't have the appetite I used to. So what's the plan for this evening?"

"Shopping," Ron said, drawing a surprised look from the others. "Mate, if that book you were reading is your usual fare, you REALLY need to improve your library."

"Not a Lovecraft fan, I see," Fred laughed. "I take it you saw the story I had bookmarked, then."

"Saw it?" Ron exclaimed. "That story would give Voldemort nightmares!"

"Admittedly, it was a good one," Fred laughed, "and it is one of my favorites in that collection, but it's hardly the stuff of nightmares."

"Hardly the...," Ron gaped.

"What ARE you talking about?" Hermione demanded impatiently.

"Long Meg and her Daughters," Fred said with a shrug. "It's a story by Paul Finch, about the place we ran into each other. A story about that place, and its link to the Plateau of Leng and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan."

"No, Hermione," Ron said firmly. "IF those books exist, and I sincerely hope they do not, we do NOT want them in our library."

"He's right," Fred said. "If they actually existed, you wouldn't want them in your library, any more than you'd want the Pnakotic Manuscripts, the Eltdown Shards, or Culte des Goules."

"But-" Hermione started.

"No, Hermione," Ron repeated. "This is one time when I have to insist. Besides, we need you to help pick out some PROPER books for him, all right?"

Tonks giggled, and Harry had trouble holding in his own quiet chuckle. Appealing to Hermione's love of books was probably the best way to sidetrack her - although he was certain she'd come back to the topic, whatever it was, when she thought she could.

"Far be it from me to intrude on a family argument," Fred said, "but I'd really rather just take a room if this is going to turn into one. If it's not, why don't we get to that shopping Ron mentioned?"

Ron and Hermione both looked embarrassed, while Harry thought Fred sounded as if he were tired - whether physically or emotionally, it was hard to tell.

"He sounds like someone who's seen far too many fights," Ginny said quietly, as she wrapped her arms around Harry from behind. Harry smiled and leaned his head back against her.

"Or been in them," Harry murmured back as he turned to kiss her. "Finally got away from the office, huh?"

"I had to find out who your new friend is," Ginny teased. "Anyone important enough for you to send Dobby after me must be pretty important."

Fred snorted and finished his butterbeer. "I still prefer ginger beer. This stuff tastes too much like butterscotch, which is way too sweet for me these days."

"Ginny," Harry said, "this is Fred MacManus, who is apparently an untrained wizard. Fred, this is my wife Ginny, who is the only person in the world able to scare her brothers. Once you meet them, you'll understand. They fit the "Mad" definition much better than Hermione does, I think."

"Sounds fun," Fred said with a grin, as he offered his hand to Ginny. "I think I'll enjoy meeting them."

"Ok," Ginny said as she shook Fred's hand, "you definitely don't know them, if you can say something like that. Either that or you're as crazy as they are."

"Or both," Fred laughed and stood up. "So, if we're going shopping, do the stores we're going to take plastic or traveler's checks?"

"No," Hermione said, "but we can stop at Gringott's first and exchange them for money they will accept."

"All right, then," Ron said. "Harry? Ginny? Tonks? Anyone not joining us?"

Ginny smiled and took Harry's arm, while Tonks grinned and playfully asked Fred, "You got a problem with someone who likes older men?"

"Only if you have a problem with an older man who's too tired to take you up on it," Fred shot back with a matching grin as he offered Tonks his arm. "Besides, even with my cane, I think I'm steadier on my feet than you are."

"I'll have you know I'm perfectly steady on my feet," Tonks declared, then tripped and fell into Fred, who laughed as he caught her.

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


	2. Chapter 2: Of Banks and Death Eaters

Laughing as if they had just shared a joke, Ron and Hermione, followed by Harry and Ginny, Tonks, and Fred MacManus, entered Diagon Alley. Fred stopped to study the archway, only to be tugged through by Tonks just before it closed.

"I don't think it would close on you," Tonks said, "but I don't want to test it, either."

"You have to admit," Fred said with a laugh as he slapped his belly, "it would have taken care of this."

"I still can't believe you got that big on what little you eat," Tonks said.

"Actually, I'm feeling a little full," Fred said. "There must have been nearly a thousand calories in that meal."

"Calories?" Tonks asked. "What are calories?"

"It's a measure of energy," Fred said. "Protein and carbohydrates each have four calories per gram, while fat has nine calories per gram."

"But how do you measure it?" Tonks asked. "And what does it mean?"

"You burn it," Fred said. "One calorie has enough energy to raise a pound of water one degree fahrenheit."

"And you can guess how many calories are in a meal just by looking at it?" Tonks asked.

"Yeah," Fred said. "I can guess. I have lots of practice, what with all the measuring I've had to do the last few years."

"That has something to do with the hypo you stuck yourself with before you ate?"

"Yeah. That was my insulin." Fred sighed heavily. "I'd give just about anything to not have to do that any more. So I take it this is Gringotts?"

Tonks looked up and nodded. "Aye, this is Gringotts."

"The one place," Harry added, "where you can always trust the people in charge."

"I shouldn't say this," Tonks said quietly, "but Harry's right. Even when you can't trust the Ministry, you can trust Gringotts."

"Doesn't surprise me," Fred said. "A cheating banker is just undermining his own business. Unless he owns the government, he HAS to be above reproach."

"Why do you put it that way?" Ron asked.

"A bank's like any other business," Fred said. "If you can get the government to pass laws or write regulations that restrict the ability of competitors to threaten your business, while not interfering with your own ability to make a profit, you can get away with things you couldn't do in an honest market. Like...back in America, there are people who do a particular special kind of hair braiding. It's ALL they do, but they're very good at it. The problem is, the people who own more generalized beauty shops don't like it, so they have laws that say a person can't do ANY kind of professional beauty work without going to an approved school and getting a license that says they know how to do all the general work that they do in those generalized beauty shops. Meanwhile, all these braiders want to do is hair braiding. They don't CARE about the other things, and don't particularly want to waste time and money learning how to do them, just so they can braid hair. But the law says that if they braid hair without getting this license, they go to jail."

"That's bollocks!" Ginny blurted out. "What kind of loonies run your government?"

Fred laughed. "The same kind of loonies who teach tourists visiting England that if they're mugged, the only thing they can do without running afoul of the law is to cover their heads with their arms and curl up on the ground so that witnesses aren't confused as to who is the attacker."

"You're kidding!" Ron blurted, then looked more shocked when he saw Harry and Hermione shake their heads. "He's not? What kind of rubbish is that?"

"The kind of rubbish governments always indulge in when they get too powerful," Fred said as he approached the doors. "So who wants to introduce me to how to use this place? ATMs would be easier, but I guess that's not likely, huh?"

"No," Hermione said. "Not likely at all. Wizards like to feel real money in their hands. And the money from Gringotts is good anywhere in the world, so we don't have to worry about changing it except when we're shopping in the muggle world."

"Well, I'll be damned," Fred said. "People besides us crotchety old farts who like real money."

"This is a surprise?" Ginny asked as she pushed the door open. "Harry, do you think Griphook would be best for handling his stuff?"

"I'm satisfied with how he handles my accounts," Harry said. "But unless Fred's planning to open an account here, anyone at the counter should be just fine."

"Hello, gents," Fred said as he stopped to study the goblins in the entry chamber. "This way to the tellers?"

"Mr. Potter," the goblin on the left said dryly. "I should have known."

"Doing my best to make your life interesting," Harry said with a grin. "He's with me."

"Of course," the goblin said as he pushed the inner door open.

"I think I could like these guys," Fred said with a chuckle as he followed Harry and Ginny in. "Damn. Now this is a big bank. So will we get a better rate if I hand my checks over to you?"

"Probably," Harry said as he watched Fred pull a book of travelers checks out of his waist pack. "I'm sure there's a higher percentage for changing money for non-customers. How much of that do you want me to change?"

"Might as well do all of it," Fred said as he handed Harry the book. "I can always use ATMs, and the checks just aren't that useful outside of the cities."

"Now there's a practical bloke," Ron commented. "No sense carrying around something you can't use."

Hermione poked Ron gently while laughing quietly. Harry found an available teller and quickly took care of exchanging the money.

"Sorry about that," Harry said as he handed Fred the sack of coins. "We get a much better exchange rate for pounds. There's a little less than 300 galleons here."

"OK," Fred said. "So what does that mean in buying power? Say...how much for a pound of chocolate?"

"If it's good chocolate? Two galleons," Ginny said. "If it's exceptional chocolate? Four or five galleons."

"Hell," Fred laughed. "I'm rich, then. So what was this about buying some books?"

"That's right," Ron said. "We are going to improve your library. Hermione knows the best picks, too."

"All right," Ginny said with a teasing smile, "who are you and what did you do with my brother?" She paused for a moment, and just as Ron was about to answer, added, "And can you keep him?"

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, as Ginny dissolved into giggles, Hermione snickered, and Harry tried to hide his laughter behind a sudden fit of coughing.

"Oy, Ron!" Tonks teased. "Looks like marriage has settled you a lot more than it has her."

"You just wait until after the full moon," Ron grumbled. "We'll see how settled you are when Lupin's home."

"Werewolf, huh?" Fred asked Tonks quietly when he saw the look on her face. "Is he your husband?"

"I wish," Tonks hissed back. "He's not allowed to marry."

"Not allowed?" Fred blurted, shocked. "What kind of insanity is that?"

"It's bollocks, is what it is," Ginny growled. "They treat someone like an evil beast, don't give them any opportunity to have family or friends or even a job, and then claim it's proof that they're evil when they lose all hope and let the beast take over. For most werewolves, letting the beast take over is just an easy way to commit suicide."

"I'll bet," Fred hissed. "Typical government. They probably hold them up as proof of how much you need them to protect you from the evil beasts, too."

"That's exactly what they do," Tonks said softly. "How did you know?"

"Standard government procedure," Fred said. "American government does it, too. In the last 40 years, I've seen the government set up all sorts of groups as the current bogeyman, and each one has been just another excuse for the government to restrict freedoms "just a little", for the sake of "protecting" its subjects. Of course, each "just a little" is just a little more than the last time, so after 40 years, people put up with things as a matter of course that, 40 years ago, they said would never happen in America - or Britain - because they were the hallmark of repressive governments."

"What kinds of things?" Harry asked as he pushed the exit door open and led the way out.

"Well," Fred said, "things like intercepting mail, listening in on phone conversations, jailing lawyers who are too good at defending their clients, jailing jurors who actually act like jurors, rather than rubber-stamping the judge's opinions, jailing people for defending themselves against criminal attackers, or holding people in prison for years without even going through the formality of charging them with a criminal offense."

"Sirius," Harry said softly, as Ginny hugged him quickly. "Yeah, I think we get the picture."

"Far too well," Ron added, then let out a curse. "Don't those idiots EVER learn? Confundus!"

"Never mind that," Hermione said as she drew her wand. "Where do they all come from? Expelliarmus!"

"Shit," Fred said and ducked to one side as a beam of red light narrowly missed him. "I am REALLY getting tired of this."

"You're not the only one," Ginny said, then cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on a Death Eater whose wand was pointed at a witch with three small children.

Tonks headed into the street, firing reductors right and left, with Harry and Ron right behind her. The Death Eaters noticed the trio and split into two groups. One began trading spells with them, while the other began targeting people who hadn't yet managed to get into the shops. When Fred saw one of the second group down a child with a cruciatus curse, he stepped out of the nook he'd taken shelter in and began stumping down the street toward the Death Eaters, totally oblivious to Hermione and Ginny shouting behind him.

"Tasogare yori kuroki mono," Fred stopped in the middle of the street, his full attention focused on the Death Eaters as he cupped his hands together and chanted, "Chi no nagare yori akaki mono, Toki no nagare ni uzumore shi, Idai na nanji no na ni oide, Ware, koko ni yami ni chikawan, Warera ga mae ni tachi fusagarishi subete no oroka naru mono ni, Ware to nanji ga chikara mote hitoshiku horobi wo ataen koto wo!" A ball of black flames formed in his hands as he chanted, oblivious to spells cast at him, and to Ginny and Hermione, who had come to flank him, using their charms to deflect the incoming spells. He hurled the ball of flames at the Death Eaters as he shouted the final words of the chant. "DORAGU SUREIBU!"

The ball of flame struck the pavement in the midst of the Death Eaters and exploded, filling Diagon Alley from side to side and spreading along its length to engulf everything from the shields hastily thrown up by Harry and Ron to the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron. When the explosion had passed, the Death Eaters lay in smoldering heaps of ashes, along with the various items that had been on display outside the stores on both sides of the alley.

"Wow," Fred whispered, then passed out.

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


	3. Chapter 3: Smugglers Are Your Friends

"Gods, how long have I been in bed?" Fred groaned and pulled off his CPAP mask. "I feel like every joint's gone stiff." He opened his eyes, then sighed. "Strange ceiling. Great."

"Don't worry, Mr. Hartwell," Harry said. "You get used to it after a while."

"Why don't we stay with Fred?" Fred asked with a sigh as he shifted position and tried sitting up. "When I hear 'Mr. Hartwell' I expect to see a vicious abusive bastard come through the door."

"But your name isn't Fred," Harry said. "So why did you tell us it is?"

"It isn't," Fred said, "only because I didn't have the money to pay for a name change before I made this trip."

"I think I understand," Harry said. "I'm not sure if the others will. The representative from your embassy has been here already, so they know your real name."

"Joy," Fred muttered. "Why?"

"Because I called them," Harry said. "The Ministry wants to send you to Azkaban."

"Where's Azkaban?" Fred asked, while looking for his glasses and putting them on. "And why do they want me to go there?"

"Not where," Harry said. "What. Azkaban is our prison. You'd already be there if not for Ms. Chadwick and Mr. Evans. Now they're talking about deporting you."

"Great," Fred grumbled. "My first trip out of the country since 1981, and they want to either kill me or deport me. Why?"

"Not kill," Harry said. "Send to prison. Because of what you did in Diagon Alley."

"Oh, trust me," Fred said, "If they sent me to prison, it would be a death sentence. What do you mean, what I did in Diagon Alley? Last I remember, I saw a Death Eater use that crucio curse on a little girl."

"So you don't remember blowing them up with a spell none of us had ever heard before?"

"Blowing them up?" Fred asked, giving Harry a confused look. "How could I do that? Even if I AM a wizard, I've never received any training in how to do anything, so how could I?"

"Every wizard does magic instinctively," Harry said. "Most just don't have that kind of power, and can't really control their instinctive magic the way you did. That's why we have wands and learn spells - to learn how to focus our magic so that we CAN control it."

"What do you mean by 'that kind of power'?" Fred asked, not noticing when his cane fell from its place against the wall to land against the bed where he was reaching for it.

"You killed all twelve of the Death Eaters," Harry said, "with one spell. What WAS that spell, anyway?"

"I don't know," Fred said as he pushed himself to his feet, groaned, and fell back onto the bed. "Damn. So they want to send me to prison for THAT? What did I SAY?"

"Ginny says you chanted something in a language she didn't recognize," Harry said, "then yelled something that sounded like 'dragu srabu' just before you threw the spell."

"Dragu...," Fred stared at Harry in shock. "Holy fuck...I threw a DRAGON SLAVE? Umm...how much of Diagon Alley is left?"

"The buildings are fine," Harry said. "They're all magically reinforced so that random spells won't damage them. Everything that was in the alley was reduced to ashes, though."

"That explains why I don't remember," Fred muttered, then looked up. "So how long have I been out?"

"About two weeks," Harry said. "Ms. Chadwick said it's the worst case of magical exhaustion she's seen in a long time."

"I'll bet," Fred said softly. "That spell...damn. And I remembered the chant?"

"What language was that, anyway?" Harry asked.

"An archaic form of Japanese," Fred said. "Old enough that translators had trouble with it when subbing and dubbing it."

"Subbing and dubbing?" Harry asked. "What do you mean?"

"It comes from an anime," Fred said. "A silly, over the top, comical anime about a wizard in a Dungeons and Dragons game."

"Are you ok," Ginny asked, opening the door. "Oh. Mr. Hartwell."

"Please," Fred said. "That's just the name on my birth certificate. It's not ME."

"Maybe not," Ginny said, "but that's the name the Ministry has for you. And now that you're awake, they'll be coming here in force."

"Joy," Fred muttered. "Harry's told me. They want to either kill me or deport me."

"Why do you say they want to kill you?" Ginny asked.

"Does Azkaban have resources for treating my medical problems?" Fred asked.

"I don't know," Ginny said, while Harry shook his head.

"I'm going to assume they don't," Fred said. "If it's anything at all like mundane prisons, the medical facilities will be primitive, at best. That means I'll be dead within a few months, but not until after I go blind, lose extremities to gangrene, and go insane. That's what untreated diabetes does to you. And then there's the arthritis, the sleep apnea, and the fibromyalgia. That reminds me..."

Fred picked up his CPAP mask and noticed that the hose was dangling, not attached to anything.

"We found it in your luggage," Harry said, "when we were trying to figure out why you kept not breathing. Hermione came up with a spell to make it work."

"Her parents are dentists," Ginny explained, "so she knows how to look up muggle medical information, and found out what the machine was good for and how you use it."

"So I won't suffocate in my sleep," Fred said. "That's a small relief. So anyway, as you can see, Azkaban is a death sentence, no matter what they try to say otherwise."

"But isn't that being pessimistic?" Ginny asked.

"Sirius was in Azkaban for 12 years," Harry said, "without even being given a trial. And how many innocent people did your dad say Scrimgeour put into Azkaban? Why should Fred expect any better?"

"That," said a voice from the doorway, "is why we don't have anything like your Ministry in America."

Fred looked toward the door and saw a brown-haired man who looked like he wouldn't be out of place in a bank. He wore a navy blue suit, glasses, and carried a briefcase.

"This is Mr. Evans," Harry said. "He's from the American Embassy."

"So, Mr. Hartwell," Mr. Evans said, "let's talk about what your situation is."

"I suppose I'm STUCK with that name as long as I'm dealing with you," Fred grumbled. "All right, what IS my situation?"

"I see," Mr. Evans said. "That explains why your friends introduced you as Fred MacManus. How much do you know of your situation?"

"Well, let's see," Fred grumbled. "In one afternoon I was attacked by Death Eaters, discovered I'm apparently a wizard who never got trained in how to control magic, got caught in another Death Eater attack, and now I've been told I used a Dragon Slave to kill the Death Eaters responsible for the second attack - and because of that, the British government wants to either kill me or deport me. I think that pretty much sums it up."

"That sounds awfully pessimistic," Mr. Evans said.

"I'm diabetic," Fred said. "What kind of facilities does Azkaban have for diabetics?"

"I see your point," Mr. Evans said. "It doesn't help that nobody has been able to give me a straight answer regarding what law you're supposed to have violated. I've spoken with the shopkeepers in Diagon Alley and they want to give you a medal. They're even willing to consider the value of the goods you destroyed as a cheap price to get rid of the Death Eaters."

"So what's the problem?" Fred asked. "Is this just because the government can't stand the idea of an untrained wizard being able to do something like that?"

"That pretty much sums it up," Mr. Evans said. "If I were you, I'd leave England as soon as possible, and don't give them time to decide what to do with you."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Fred said. "My plans HAD been to go from here to Egypt..."

"And I don't see any reason you shouldn't continue with those plans," Mr. Evans said. "Just make sure your return trip does not go through England."

"As far as I remember, it doesn't," Fred said. "My tickets are in my bag, wherever that is."

"Here in the wardrobe," Ginny said. "We got into it when we were trying to figure out why you weren't breathing."

"Thanks." Fred hobbled over to the wardrobe and dug into his bag. "Yeah. Here we go. Return trip goes from Cairo to Paris, then from Paris to Boston." He looked at his watch. "Damn. And I missed the flight from London to Cairo. It left 3 hours ago."

"I think we can do something about that," Harry said, flashing a grin at Ginny. "I have a brother-in-law who works in Egypt. I think it's time we paid him a visit, don't you?"

"We'll get to see Bill?" Ginny laughed. "Sounds like fun to me."

"Huh?" Fred asked, then shook his head. "Oh. Your brother's name is Bill, too?"

"That's right," Ginny said with a grin. "This'll be great! Just like back at Hogwarts."

"It's amazing, the tricks my hearing plays on me some days," Mr. Evans said. "I'd swear I just heard you say that you had an invitation from your brother to introduce him to Mr. MacManus."

"I do believe you're right," Harry said with a grin. "And it WOULD take care of the Ministry's problem quite handily, wouldn't it?"

"The only way to do it, though," Harry mused, "would be by way of Gringotts. Once you get down into the vaults, you could come up anywhere."

"Even into the branch Bill's office is in," Ginny said with a grin. "Great plan!"

"So how do we get to Gringotts?" Fred asked.

"Just a moment," Mr. Evans said, as he closed the door, then pulled out his wand and traced it while chanting something in a language none of the others recognized. "Mr. MacManus, if you'd be so kind as to change into something more suitable outside of a hospital..."

Fred nodded and pulled clothing out of the wardrobe, then looked at Ginny with a raised eyebrow.

"You're old enough to be my father," she laughed, and turned her back so he could change.

"Maybe so," Fred said as he pulled on a quick change of clothes and sat down to don a pair of hiking boots, "but it doesn't change the fact that I don't usually undress in front of people."

When Ginny turned around, Fred was dressed in jeans, a sky blue t-shirt with a picture of a Chinese Fireball coiled on the front, a long-sleeved lightweight cotton shirt over that, a white baseball cap with a picture of a teddy bear flying a kite embroidered on the front, and had changed his glasses for a pair of wrap-around sunglasses with prescription inserts and crimson lenses.

"Excellent," Mr. Evans said, as he reached for the door handle. "Now, we have about three minutes before the spell expires, so let's get moving, shall we?"

When the door opened, they were looking into an office at Gringotts, with a goblin sitting behind a desk, watching them expectantly.

"Come along," the goblin said. "We don't have all day. Every minute your portal is occupying that frame is a minute another portal can't use it."

"Just a moment, Boragon," Mr. Evans said, then turned to the others. "Make sure you have everything, because once you go through that portal, you won't be able to come back."

Fred checked the bed and bedside table, put on his waist and back packs, stuffed the last things Ginny and Harry brought to him into his bag, then nodded. "Looks like I have everything."

"Good," Mr. Evans said as he stepped into the doorway. "Then we should be going."

Ginny followed Mr. Evans, and Harry gestured Fred ahead of him. "I can make sure there's nothing left behind, so you go ahead and I'll be right behind you."

Fred nodded and followed Ginny, setting his bag down on the floor in Boragon's office.

"Cargo?" Boragon asked.

"Three passengers," Mr. Evans said.

"Destination?"

"Cairo."

"One hundred galleons," Boragon said, looking up. "Each."

"One hund-!" Ginny started, then glared at Harry over his hand as he covered her mouth.

Fred opened his waist pack and pulled out the money pouch he'd received at Gringotts, then let out a curse. "What the fuck? There was supposed to be 300 galleons in here!"

"I've got it covered," Harry said as he pulled out his own pouch. "The Ministry 'confiscated' your money. They said you could get it back if you could prove it wasn't connected to any crime."

"And here I thought that was a uniquely American method of highway robbery," Fred grumbled. "So I'm out 300 galleons, with nothing to show for it."

"Not quite nothing," Mr. Evans said. "You'll be in Cairo in just a few minutes, with no record of your trip."

"Right," Fred said. "Since you're not coming with us, who should I look up when I get back to the States?"

"You'll want the Salem School," Mr. Evans said, "which is in Bridgewater, not Salem."

"Avoiding the Cabot effect, eh?" Fred snorted. "Sounds good to me."

"Exactly," Mr. Evans said. "Have a nice trip, and...oh! You'll be needing this." He handed Fred a small gray booklet. "It's the complete text of OUR laws. Given what we know about you, I don't think you'll have any trouble with them."

Fred took the book and flipped it open the the first page, which contained ten short paragraphs and was titled "Precepts of the Grey Council." He skimmed it and laughed. "You're right. I won't have any trouble with this. Thanks."

"Welcome aboard, Fred," Mr. Evans said with a smile. "I know it's about 40 years late, but, it's a hell of a ride."

"If you're quite finished cluttering up my office," Boragon said, indicating a door to the left of the one they'd entered through, "Mr. Potter has paid your fare, so if the three who are going will go through that door, I can get on with other clients."

Fred picked up his bag and followed Harry and Ginny through the indicated door, into an alcove in the lobby of a small, but apparently busy, hostel.

"Hey, I remember this place!" Ginny exclaimed and headed for the front desk. "Ibrahim! Remember us? We're back!"

"Enthusiastic, isn't she?" Fred said with a chuckle."

"You don't know the half of it," Harry laughed. "At least we won't have any trouble getting rooms. This is the place we stayed when we visited Bill a couple years ago."

"Mrs. Potter," the man behind the counter said. "If I had known you were on your way, I would have arranged for your old suite before you arrived. As it is, I'm afraid all we have available is the Imy-Khent suite."

"How many rooms does it have?" Ginny asked, as Harry and Fred caught up to her.

"It has a central sitting room, a small kitchen, three bedrooms, and a full bath."

"Does it have a floo connection?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Ibrahim replied. He smiled as he noted Fred's dress and bag. "I see that only one of you is prepared for your stay here. If you would join me for tea after you have settled in your suite, I can arrange assistance in shopping. There have been some new shops opened since you were last here, which I believe you will find quite interesting."

"Give us ten minutes," Harry said, as he handed Ibrahim his Gringotts card. "Will that be enough?"

"That will be plenty of time," Ibrahim said as he ran the card and handed it back to Harry. "I will be looking forward to your stories."

Fred came out of his room to find Harry and Ginny talking to a flaming head in the fireplace in the sitting room of their suite.

"So let me see if I've got this right," the head in the fireplace said. "You came to Egypt because the Ministry wanted to send a guy you barely know to Azkaban because he blew up a bunch of Death Eaters? And you did it through Boragon's smuggling service?"

"That's right," Ginny said. "Hey Fred! Come over here and meet my brother Bill!"

"All right," Fred said, and joined the conversation at the fire. "Hello. I'm Fred MacManus, although the Ministry is probably telling people all about the evil Bill Hartwell in whatever warnings they're sending out."

"And why is that?" Bill asked.

"Well," Fred said, "according to Harry, I used a Dragon Slave spell on the Death Eaters, and that seems to have scared the pants off the folks at the Ministry."

"Dragon Slave?" Bill said. "I've never heard of it."

"That's because it comes from a comic book," Fred said. "Thing is, I don't remember doing it. One minute I was hiding while Harry and Ginny and company were fighting Death Eaters, the next I'm waking up in St. Mungo's, two weeks later."

"Two weeks, huh?" Bill said. "It must be a damned powerful spell to knock you out for that long when you cast it."

"It vaporized all twelve of them in one blast," Harry said, "along with about half of Diagon Alley."

"It would have got us, too," Ginny said, "if Harry and Ron hadn't used their strongest shields to hold it back."

"And you're traveling with this guy?" Bill shouted. "What kind of idiots ARE you?"

"William Weasley!" Ginny shouted back. "Don't you DARE! We stand by our friends! Especially when they've been wrongly accused! Don't you remember when HARRY was in the same kind of trouble?"

"He's right, you know," Fred said, earning a surprised look from both Bill and Ginny, and a soft chuckle from Harry. "Here I am, 44 years old, completely without any magical training of any kind, and apparently with the ability to tap enough raw power to pull off a spell that can level a village. If I were in his shoes, I'd be worried about my little sister, too. If I had any family worth worrying about, that is."

"That's why we're traveling with him," Harry said. "He doesn't have any of the things he needs to survive as a wizard, he sounds a like me in some ways, and he's been unjustly condemned by the Ministry, just like I was."

"All right," Bill sighed. "I get the picture. So when are you coming by to visit? I know Fleur would love to see you."

"How does tomorrow sound?" Harry asked. "Around tea time?"

"Make it dinner," Bill said. "It'll take you that long to get adjusted to the time change."

"All right, then," Ginny said. "We'll see you for dinner. Just don't get yourself caught in any traps before then."

"Do I look like your husband?" Bill asked, then laughed as Ginny swiped at his image in the fire. "Oy! Watch it! That almost came through to hit me!"

"Good!" Ginny said with a grin. "Now go on. I need to pick up some clothes that won't make me feel like I'm going to die of heat stroke."

"You're doomed, Harry," Bill laughed, then cut the connection.

"ARG!" Ginny shouted, stomping her foot. "He's so INFURIATING!"

"I hear this rumor that's what brothers are best at," Fred said. "I'm ready whenever you are."

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine. "The Precepts of the Grey Council" comes from _Harry Potter and the Junior Year Abroad_, by Ishtar.


	4. Chapter 3A: Family Dinner

"...So then I re-read the inscription on the wall and realized that I'd done everything BACKWARDS," Bill Weasley finished, while his guests wiped tears of laughter from their cheeks.

"My foolish husband," Fleur chided lovingly. "And you are ze best Gringotts has. It is good you are so lucky, oui?"

"Of course it is," Bill said with a grin as he took Fleur's hand. "If I weren't so lucky, my mum might have scared you off."

"Pffft!" Fleur snorted. "She was only being as any mother would."

"Just more enthusiastic about it," Ginny muttered, inspiring a snort of laughter from Harry.

"So," Fleur said as she looked at Fred appraisingly, "you are 'arry's new friend, oui?"

"Uh, yeah," Fred said as he slid a bit lower in his chair. "I, uh, yeah."

"Don't worry," Harry laughed. "Fleur has that effect on men in general."

"Better dial it back, darling," Bill said with a smile.

"Of course," Fleur said with a smile. "It seems 'arry did not warn poor Fred."

"Warn?" Harry asked innocently. "Whatever would I have to warn him about?"

"How about that your sister-in-law is practically a vila?" Fred grumbled as he sat up slowly. "That would have been nice to know."

"Oh!" Fleur exclaimed happily. "You know of veela?"

"Not much, really," Fred said slowly. "I had to do some research a couple years ago for a story set in Romania. According to most legends, vila are wind and storm spirits, appear as swans, wolves, or horses in their animal forms and as supernaturally beautiful, long-haired women in their human forms. Some legends speak of land, water, wood, and cloud vila, so there's apparently as much variation as there is among the fae of Celtic legends."

"You're a writer?" Bill asked.

"Not a very successful one so far," Fred said, "but I do write. I have this slight problem selling my stuff, because every publisher I've submitted it to has complained that it doesn't fit into any definable genre. Well, except for the one publisher that said it read like a comic book. But I'm not an artist, so I can't sell to comic companies, either."

Bill looked at Harry with a confused expression. "Did any of that make any sense to you?"

"Only the part about the comic books," Harry said. "Fred, why don't you try that again, but pretend we don't have the slightest clue what you're talking about."

"Oh. Right." Fred blushed. "I should have thought of that. OK, I've written a lot of stuff - stories, even a couple books - but I can't sell it because publishers like to be able to fit their products into neat little niches. They call them genres. For instance, there's the 'romance' genre, which is just what it sounds like. Or there's the 'fantasy' genre, about wizards and dragons and elves and other such things that don't fit into the mundane conception of reality. And there's the 'science fiction' genre, which is about exploring what would happen if you were to take some modern scientific theory or technological trend and extend it to its possibilities, rather than its actualities. Then there's mysteries, and westerns and spy stories...anyway, there's a whole lot of different niches that you can squeeze a story into. Unless they're like my stories, which freely mix elements from lots of different types of story, so that publishers can't figure out where to fit them."

"Except comic books?" Ginny asked.

"Right," Fred said. "Comic books. Where you'll have no trouble finding a mad scientist, an obsessive-compulsive sociopath, an alien escape artist, an ice maiden, a washed-up football star in a stolen suit of armor, and a brain-damaged jerk with an alien weapon, all working together to defend the world against a time-traveling megalomaniac."

"Zat sounds confusing as 'ell," Fleur declared. Bill and Ginny nodded in agreement, while Harry laughed.

"That sounds like one of the comics Dudley had," Harry said. He looked down at Ginny's hand on his leg and gently covered it with his own. "It's ok, love. It's not as if they can do anything to me any more."

"Maybe not physically," Ginny said quietly.

"So where are the good places to shop around here?" Fred asked abruptly. "From what they've told me, I really should look for a wand of some sort, and I had planned to make shopping for clothes one of my first tasks, if I had arrived here as I'd planned."

"Oh!" Fleur said with a laugh. "I know many good shops. You are wanting to dress as the Egyptians do?"

"Exactly," Fred said. "It's been my experience that it's a lot more comfortable getting around if you wear the traditional garb of the area you're visiting. I may not be able to pass for Muslim, but I can sure dress to avoid heat stroke. Speaking of which, is there an apothecary you're recommend around here? I need to make sure I don't run out of the potions Ms. Chadwick made up."

"There's a decent potions master close to my office," Bill said. "If you have samples to spare, I'm sure he can copy them for you."

"Thanks," Fred said. "I'll dig them out of my bag when we get back to the inn. So what is there to do here among the wizard community?"

"That depends on what you're interested in," Bill said. "Unlike in England, wizards don't wall themselves off so much from muggles here. I know some really nice clubs, if that's what you're looking for."

"Not really," Fred said. "I'm not a big fan of clubs. Give me a nice library or computer lab and I'll be happy for days. Twenty years ago, I used to enjoy exploring ruins on my days off. These days..." He shook his head. "I'd probably give myself a heart attack if I tried it."

"Can't be that bad, can it?" Bill asked.

"Two hundred pounds overweight," Fred answered. "Diabetic. Arthritic. got a couple neurological problems that American doctors refuse to recognize as real, serious illnesses. If I don't give myself a heart attack from exertion, I'm likely to have one from surprise."

"That seems awfully pessimistic," Ginny said.

"Nope," Fred replied with a grin. "Not pessimistic. Cynical. Pessimism takes too much effort."

"You're doing that just to be difficult!" Ginny complained.

"And this is a problem, how?" Fred shot back. He looked back at Bill while Ginny sputtered. "So, are there any good libraries around? I know the concept of a computer lab is a bit outside your world, but I'm sure there must be libraries."

"You're in Egypt," Harry laughed. "They practically invented libraries here. Even the muggle markets have book stores on every corner."

"Sounds like my kind of place," Fred said with a grin. "So who wants to play tour guide, shopping expert, and so on?"

"But of course," Fleur declared, "I will. It will be refreshing, to shop with a man who wishes to. I am sure Ginny will want to join us as well, no?"

"You're doomed," Bill intoned, drawing a brief glare from Fleur. He held up his hands in surrender. "If he enjoys shopping, far be it from me to interfere."

"Zat is better," Fleur said firmly. "I will meet you at your hotel in ze morning. We can visit ze potions master before we begin to shop."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Fred said. "Thanks. I really appreciate this."

"Zis?" Fleur said with a dismissive wave. "Zis is nozing. I need a day of, what would you say, mental health time? And zis is ze perfect excuse."

"Heavy project?" Harry asked.

"It is not so much heavy," Fleur said, "as it is tedious. It is checking ze calculations of ze arithmancers before zey are allowed to try zair spells so zey are not destroying ze city."

"Oy," Fred said softly. "I don't even like doing my own math, let alone checking someone else's. No wonder you need a break."

"That's why people like Fleur are so important," Bill said, while smiling at his wife. "She has the patience and the intelligence to do that kind of tedious work, so the rest of us don't blow ourselves up with unproven spells."

"So what happens if people whip up their own spells?" Fred asked.

"Depends on whether they get away with it," Harry said softly, while putting on his best innocent expression.

"Oh!" Fleur said, while grinning at Harry. "Zat would nevair do! Arithmancy is too dangerous for anyone who is not properly certified and licensed. Zat would be like allowing a child to play wiz ashwinders."

"She's obviously never seen Hagrid in class," Ginny whispered to Harry, who broke into a coughing fit as he tried to restrain his laughter.

"'arry? Are you all right?" Fleur asked worriedly. Harry raised his head and nodded, gasped out, "Just...fine...really..." then fell into another coughing fit.

"So who's Hagrid?" Fred asked. Bill immediately began snickering, while Fleur looked mildly indignant.

"'agrid is no example," Fleur declared. "'e zinks zat dragons are 'cute'."

"You mean, they're not?" Fred asked, with an innocent smile on his face.

"Oh, trust me," Harry said, "they're a lot of things, but I'd never call them 'cute'."

"Awww," Fred said with a mock pout, "and here I was hoping to see if they really like chocolate or not."

"A nutter," Bill said, shaking his head. "You should take him to see Charley."

"Bucket?" Fred asked with a grin, then laughed at the total lack of comprehension on the other faces. "Sorry. I just had to. Chocolate and Charley so close together brought to mind this book I loved when I read it, along with the two movies that were based on the book."

"Chocolate...Charley..." Harry muttered, then blinked. "Charley and the Chocolate Factory? That book?"

"That's the one," Fred said with a grin. "I loved it. And its sequel, The Great Glass Elevator."

"I never got to read it," Harry said. "The teachers all said it was unsuitable for children, and I wasn't allowed to read at the Dursleys'."

"Stupid teachers," Fred snorted. "And not allowed to read? I would have gone insane."

"I very nearly did," Harry said quietly. Ginny slipped out of her chair and settled on his lap, wrapped her arms around him, and held him tightly.

Fred watched thoughtfully for a few moments as Ginny quietly talked with Harry, then he quietly leaned over and asked Bill and Fleur, "Doesn't the wizarding world have anything that resembles therapists?"

"I guess not," Bill answered, "since I have no idea what you mean."

"What I mean," Fred said, continuing the quiet conversation, "is someone whose profession it is to listen to someone who's suffering like Harry is, and help him find ways to deal with the pain so that it doesn't eat him up."

Bill thought about that for a minute, then shook his head before murmuring in reply, "No, we don't have anything like that."

"Do you mean an alienist?" Fleur asked. "Zair are one or two I know of in Paris, but zay are not popular."

"That's an old term for them," Fred said, "but yes, they're not popular in the mundane world, either. Even though there are thousands of them."

"Most people have family and friends to help them over rough times," Bill said softly, "but between Voldemort and Dumbledore, Harry doesn't have anything like that, other than us Weasleys."

"Then it sounds to me like you Weasleys need to start digging in, eh?" Fred said, glancing over at Harry and Ginny. "I know what kind of crap he's going through, and believe me, it can really mess you up. Better he shouldn't spend another 20 years hurting like that before anyone bothers to try helping him."

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.

Author's note: This was an abandoned piece of the story, mostly because I couldn't figure out how to wind it up from where it stopped. It's posted here because someone asked how it was that Fred could be out shopping with Fleur and Ginny and not be drooling after Fleur the entire time. Oh yeah, and every one of the mentioned comic book characters is a real character in real comics published by DC.


	5. Chapter 4: Oh Frak, Am I In Trouble!

"You look so dashing!" Fleur gushed as Fred exited the changing room for what felt to him like the thousandth time that afternoon. This time, he was wearing an outfit that, in his mind, looked like something a Victorian Egyptologist would have worn. Not that he was objecting, since he actually liked the style, but it was getting to the point he wished Fleur and Ginny would just let him pay for his purchases and go. Instead, he felt as if they were using him to try out styles they wanted to put on their husbands, but couldn't.

So far, the best part of the afternoon was finding that he could fit into clothes he had never even dreamed of squeezing into before his two-week coma. He didn't know if it was the not eating part, or the way his metabolism seemed to have sped up since using that damned spell, but either way, he was now at the point that the clothes he had started his trip with were becoming too large to stay on his body.

"Oh, definitely," Ginny commented as she came around the end of a clothing rack, carrying still more clothes for Fred to try. He almost, but didn't quite, managed to stifle a groan, which brought forth giggles from both women. "Why, Fred! You'd think that trying on clothes was some kind of torture."

"Eet eez zat way wiz my Bill, too," Fleur said. "Eet eez almost eempossible to get him into a proper suit."

"I suppose that depends on your definition of a proper suit," Fred grumbled as he picked through the clothes Ginny had brought him. "Nope...nope...nope...not a chance...whoa, I think I like this one." He picked up the hangar in question and returned to the changing room. It only took a couple minutes to change into the new outfit, and he paused to study himself in the mirror before opening the door to face the women. It's not tweed, but that's a good thing in this climate. And it looks good, too. I don't care what they say, I'm keeping this one.

"You look like a Bedouin," Ginny commented after studying Fred for a minute. He was wearing an embroidered white dishdasha with hood, under a brown abaya with gold trim. On his head, he wore an ivory kufi under a white smagh with black embroidery and a simple black egal to hold it in place. Ginny had to admit to herself that he looked comfortable in the outfit; the first time all afternoon he had looked as if he was wearing something he liked. "We're not getting you out of that, are we?"

"Nope," Fred agreed with a grin. "Not unless you can find me a casual version of this outfit."

"Only two days, and he has already gone native," Fleur complained playfully. "I suppose we shall just have to find that casual suit then, oui?"

"Yeah," Fred laughed. "Lada warned me I'd probably do something like...oh shit. I haven't emailed her since I was in Cumbria." He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I am in so much trouble..."

"Lada? Who is zis Lada?" Fleur asked. "And what is zis email?"

"My girlfriend," Fried groaned. "I promised her I'd email at least once a week, more often if I had something interesting to tell her. Shit, shit, shit. I need to find an internet cafe. No, I need to go back to the hotel and get my keyboard and wireless card so I can write an email. Shit, shit, shit. I am in so much trouble."

"Your girlfriend?" Ginny asked. "Why isn't she with you?"

"She couldn't take the vaccinations. Her immune system is screwed up enough as it is, and the vaccinations she needed for the trip would have put her in the hospital." Fred reached under the abaya and pulled out his PDA, opened it up, and began tapping on it with his pen/stylus. Ginny and Fleur watched, fascinated by the way he was able to make the device function, even in a shop catering to wizards.

The shopkeeper walked over to see what the excitement was about and stopped to stare, then whispered to Fleur while gesturing at Fred. Fleur whispered back, and the two held a quick conversation, which ended when Fleur counted out and handed him enough coins to pay for the outfits they were taking. Fred, meanwhile, was still tapping at his PDA, using both the keyboard and stylus, totally absorbed in his task until Ginny tapped his shoulder. He jumped and looked up at her.

"Let's find you that internet cafe, right?" Ginny said. "You can dash off a quick message to her, then write a longer one when we're at the hotel. How's that?"

"Yeah," Fred said, nodding. "That's a good idea. Shit. I am in so much trouble."

"Look at this," Ginny teased, grinning at Fleur. "The man faces down Death Eaters without breaking a sweat, but panics at the thought of his girlfriend being mad at him. Looks like he has his priorities right, wouldn't you say?"

"Oui," Fleur laughed. "He knows what is truly important, non?"

"How close to Cafe de Paris are we?" Fred asked, looking up from his PDA. "That's the only internet cafe I have listed that's downtown."

"Cafe de Paris?" Fleur asked. "Do you have an address for it?"

"According to what I have here, it's in the Bustan Center." Fred looked back at his PDA. "The address listed is 18 Yosef al-Gindi Street."

"Oh!" Fleur laughed. "That is just a few blocks away. We can be there in no more than fifteen minutes."

"Oh, good." Fred let out a sigh of relief. "I can dash off a quick note to her and let her know I'm ok. Is that ok with you two?"

"Only if we stop for lunch before we go home," Fleur teased. "Shopping is such hard work, after all."

"You're telling me," Fred grumbled, with a slight smile. "Yes, I think lunch would be a good plan."

"Here you go," Fleur said with a smile, handing Fred a package small enough to tuck in his pocket. "Your new wardrobe. But do not think that I have forgotten we must get you a casual version of what you are now wearing. And where are the clothes you wore to come here?"

"I got them," Ginny announced from the changing room. She handed Fred another small bundle. "You wouldn't want to leave them behind, would you?"

"No," Fred said, shaking his head as he took the bundle. "Thanks. To both of you."

"Now let's go find that place and make sure you don't get in deeper trouble than you're already in," Ginny teased as she hooked Fred's arm with her own and tugged him along behind Fleur toward the shop's exit.

Date: June 21, 2006

To: ladalaputa.gov

From: prince.fredericklaputa.gov

Subject: Oops

Greetings from sunny Cairo. Sorry I haven't written in so long. I kind of wasn't able to. I'll send a longer email tomorrow telling you all about it, but I wanted to be sure you knew I was OK and hadn't forgotten. By the way, while I'm here, is there anything you want me to pick up for you? I've met some friends who can help me shop, so I should be able to find anything you might want.

"That'll do for now," Fred said. "I'll probably have email waiting for me tomorrow, but at least now she knows I'm alive and not in prison somewhere. So, how does the menu look here?"

"A little sparse, but it'll do for lunch," Ginny said, while Fleur sniffed at the menu.

"If zis is French, I am Marie Antoinette!" Fleur declared.

"Doubtful," Fred grinned. "You still have your head attached."

"You, Monsieur Fred, are a brat," Fleur pronounced, while Ginny giggled. "Are you sure you are not a Weasley?"

Fred brought his pony tail around and studied it for a moment, then shook his head. "Can't be. My hair's not red."

Fleur joined Ginny in laughing. Fred took the opportunity to study the cafe's menu. He had to agree: this place's definition of "French" wasn't much better than its definition of "American." But at least they had something that vaguely resembled coffee. On the other hand, if it was French Roast, he dearly hoped they had plenty of cream. Charcoal was not his idea of good coffee.

At the hotel, Fred headed straight for the kitchenette and started a pot of coffee. As he had suspected, the atrocious ichor they sold at Cafe de Paris was charcoal-based, and he wanted to wash the flavor out with the taste of real coffee. Fleur stood in the doorway and laughed as she watched Fred begin his brew, while Ginny shook her head with a grin.

"Surely it was not zat bad!" Fleur protested, just before the smell of coffee began to fill the room. Within moments, her eyes were watering, while Fred vanished into his room, then returned with a roll-up keyboard and small stand that he plugged his PDA into.

"Huh? What's that?" Fred asked as he sat down. "Oh. Coffee should be ready in a few minutes. Want some?"

"Want some?" Fleur sputtered, while Ginny quietly moved to the windows and opened them. "Just ze aroma is like ze Pepper-Up potion!"

"Pepper-Up potion?" Fred asked distractedly while he went through his routine of tapping on his PDA's screen, before placing his fingers on the keyboard. "Sounds interesting. What's it made of?"

"I am not ze potions master," Fleur protested. "You should ask 'ermione if you want to know." She sat in the sitting room, as close to the windows as she could, and leaned over to talk quietly to Ginny.

"OK," Fred said, distracted by his screen, apparently oblivious to being abandoned by the two women. He typed frantically for several minutes, stopped and read the screen, then typed some more. The process repeated for nearly fifteen minutes, before he looked up and announced, "Coffee's ready. Anyone want some?"

In the sitting room, Fleur and Ginny were all but bouncing in their seats as they listened to they Weird Sisters on the WWN.

"Coffee?Sure!" Ginny said at a speed about five times faster than usual. Fleur nodded along with her, with a maniacal grin on her face.

"OK." Fred poured three mugs. "Cream? Sugar? Flavors?"

"Cafeaulait," Fleur declared, her words coming out fast enough that Fred had to focus to separate them."Withonespoonofsugar."

"Sugar," Ginny said, "andcream.Lotsofboth." Again, it took extra effort for Fred to make out the words.

"Got it." Fred whistled (La, la, la-la, la, la) as he mixed up the coffees and carried them into the sitting room. "There. I think I have it mostly down, at least as much as I want to send over the net, so I can upload it tomorrow. No, that's Fleur's Ginny. Here's yours." He switched the mugs so each was closer to its designated recipient, then settled down tiredly on the sofa to sip his own coffee and listen to the music. "Sounds good. Who is it?"

"Youdon'tknowtheWeirdSisters?" Ginny asked, her voice quivering - whether from the speed she was talking or from excitement, Fred couldn't tell. "They'rethebest!"

"Umm...Fleur, what's the floo address for Bill's office?"

"Oh!Hedoesnothaveone!" Fleur responded with a laugh. "Zereisonlyzecentralflooforzefaci-facil-zebuilding."

"Well, frack," Fred grumbled and slumped back in his seat as he watched Fleur and Ginny worriedly. He didn't remember ever seeing anyone react to coffee this strongly before. It was as if they'd never had any before. Ever. He bit his lip as he thought, worried, and watched the two women practically vibrate their way through the seats. Finally, in desperation, he waved his hand at them and blurted out, "Ii nekhed."

Fleur and Ginny collapsed, as if their strings had been cut, and slumped in their seats, deep asleep.

"Gods, I hope I didn't overdo it THIS time." Fred muttered, then sat back to finish his coffee and wait for Harry and Bill to return.

"Fred? Fred!"

"Huhwha?" Fred looked up blearily as Harry shook him. "Oh. Harry. Wazzup?"

"What happened here? Who attacked you?"

"Attacked? Huh?" Fred blinked his eyes and looked around. WWN still playing on the radio, girls still sleeping, cold coffee in the girls' mugs, Zaurus on the table...everything looked normal to him."Nobody. Why?"

"Nobody?" Harry blurted, with a look of surprise on his face. "Then what put Ginny and Fleur to sleep? I can't wake either of them!"

"Huh? Oh. Sorry." Fred made plucking motions at each of the two, while muttering, "Nehes." Ginny, then Fleur, yawned and stretched, then sat up and looked around, blinking slowly as they woke.

"What spell was that?" Harry demanded, looking from the girls to Fred and back again.

"Hell if I know," Fred said with a shrug. "I just knew I had to keep them from vibrating themselves into heart attacks after they drank my coffee. Which reminds me. Fleur, Ginny, have either of you ever had coffee before?"

"Of course," Fleur declared. "Cafe au lait is a part of every good meal."

"OK, so you've had charcoal. You, Ginny?" As Fred asked, Ginny shook her head, turning a faint green from nausea. "Joy. Neither of you are used to coffee, and I gave you MY coffee. I am such an idiot!"

"Coffee?" Harry asked, looking from Fred to Fleur and Ginny. "This is about coffee?"

"Uh...sorry." Fred blushed and shrugged. "We got back from shopping and I made a pot. I didn't think about the possibility that they weren't used to drinking coffee when I offered it to them. When I saw how badly they reacted, I put them to sleep until the coffee wore off. I figured that was the safest way to solve the problem."

"But how?" Harry asked. "You don't have a wand, you don't have any training, and the last time you threw a spell, you put yourself in a coma."

"You got me," Fred admitted. "I don't know exactly how I did it, but I do know that ever since I woke up in St. Mungo's, I've been seeing things slightly differently than I used to. Not just seeing things differently, but thinking differently, too. It's like...things that felt just barely out of reach are suddenly clear and understandable, and I can sense things that I never quite grasped before. It's like...you know how, when you see something out of the corner of your eye, and you know it's there, but you can't quite make it out? Well, now, it's suddenly right there in front of me, as clear as day."

"Oh...kay...But that doesn't explain how you can do it."

"Ok," Fred sighed. "How about this? What language do you use when you cast a spell?"

"Latin," Ginny said. "Why?"

"It's not very good Latin, is it?" Fred asked. "It's more like the Latin you'd pick up in a "Latin for Doctors" class than in a proper linguistic course. Could you actually compose an essay in the Latin you know from your spells?"

"Umm...no..." Harry sat down and leaned forward, curious to see where this was going.

"So obviously, you're not being taught Latin as a language - just as a mnemonic device for triggering your spells. Why is that?"

"Because it works?" Ginny suggested. "Most people don't need to know how a spell works. All they need to know is that it does work."

"Right. And using a language they don't understand causes a shift in thought that allows the magic to flow without being caught up in their mundane attitudes or thinking. Remember the spell I cast in Diagon Alley?"

"How could we forget?" Harry snarked, as Ginny gently punched him in the shoulder.

"Well, I've been thinking about that. A lot. And I think I figured out how it worked. Yes, that does mean that I think I could replicate it again if I had to. And this time, I might even be able to do it without putting myself into a coma."

"Uh...are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No. In fact, it's a very bad idea. But the logic behind it is simple. Simple enough that, right now, I think if I had a wand, all it would do is get in my way. At least, until I figured out how to incorporate it. The language isn't important. All that's important is the change in thought. You could use Latin, Norse, Japanese, or, as I did today, Egyptian. What matters is that you use a language you don't normally think in, as the language you use for your magic. When you do that, the very act of using that language signals to your mind that you are doing magic, and that it should open up the power to be shaped as you need it."

"I've heard this before," Harry said softly. "Or something very like it."

"Hermione said it," Ginny said. "Remember? She said the only reason we use Latin is because Latin has been considered the language of the educated classes, ever since the Romans. We don't know what languages people used before Hogwarts was founded, but I'll bet not all of them used Latin."

"Probably not. In any case, what I did today proves you don't even have to use proper grammar to make a spell work. Just know what you want it to do and what will trigger the magic to do what you want."

"What do you mean?" Now Fleur was leaning forward, curiosity aroused.

"When I put the two of you to sleep, the words I used were 'ii nekhed' - which literally means 'come sleep.' It was the only thing I could think of at the time, and I wasn't even sure it would work, but it was the only way I could think of to keep the two of you from having heart attacks. Which reminds me. Next time I offer you coffee, make sure it's not my coffee, ok?"

"What is it with your coffee?" Harry demanded. "Why are you emphasizing it so much?"

Fred picked up one of the unfinished mugs and offered it to Harry. "Here's a sample of my coffee, diluted with..." he sniffed the mug "...cream and sugar. Don't drink it. Analyze it the way you'd analyze a potion."

Harry looked from Fred to the mug, scowling as he took the mug and sniffed at it. He quickly held it at arm's length, gasping. "You didn't drink this, did you?"

"No. I drink it black," Fred said. "That was Ginny's mug."

"Ginny?" Harry gave his wife a worried look.

"Just don't get it close to me, ok? I feel kind of queasy even thinking about it."

Harry carried the mug to the kitchenette and poured its contents into the sink. Steam curled up from the drain as the liquid ran down. "Do you mind if I take a pure sample?"

"Go ahead. Should still be about a half cup left in the pot."

"And you drink this without diluting it?"

"Of course. When I drink coffee, I want coffee. Oh, sometimes I'll add cream, for a little flavoring or texture adjustment, but it's the coffee I'm interested in." Fred shrugged. "That atrociouis ichor they sold at the cafe didn't deserve to be called coffee. I needed something to wash the taste of charcoal out of my mouth."

"Atrocious ichor?" Harry asked.

"Cafe au lait," Fleur answered. "It was not particularly good, but surely it was not atrocious."

"Eh." Fred shrugged. "Different strokes. I will never understand why people feel the need to drink charcoal, but if you like it, it's all yours."

"What is this fixation you have with charcoal?" Fleur asked, sounding as if she were frustrated enough to scream.

"Have you ever seen a coffee bean?"

"Non..."

"Here." Fred walked into the kitchenette, took a canister out of the cupboard, and returned to the sitting room. "These are coffee beans that are roasted the way I prefer them. Notice the full aroma and the delicate undertones? In order to get French Roast coffee, you have to roast the beans three times as long as those were roasted, which boils off all the flavor and caffeine, leaving behind a bitter black lump of charcoal. With these, the flavor is full enough that you can dip them in chocolate and eat them like candy. Try doing that with French Roast."

"Can I have some of those?" Harry asked.

"Sure. Just don't take them all. I haven't found a coffee supplier here yet. I'd buy them green and roast them myself if I had to, but I'd prefer to get them already roasted if I can." Fred snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. I need to find a tobacco shop, too. I'm almost out."

Harry conjured up a small pouch and filled it with coffee beans, then handed the canister to Fleur, who studied the contents intently, as if trying to understand something she'd never encountered before. After a trip to the kitchenette to fill a flask with coffee from the pot, Harry returned, bent down to hug Ginny, then stood in front of the fire place. "I'm going to take these to Professor Slughorn to study. Unless I'm really lucky, he'll keep me for dinner. Will you be ok?"

"I'll be ok," Ginny laughed as she stood to kiss Harry before he could leave. "Say hi to Headmaster McGonagall for me, ok?"

"Of course, love." Harry lovingly returned the kiss, then looked at Fred. "Don't give anyone any more of your coffee before I get back, right?"

"No chance of that. I get the feeling Lada's the only person besides myself who can drink it safely." Fred sighed as he answered.

"Lada?" Harry paused before activating the floo. "Who's Lada?"

"My girlfriend. Which reminds me. I've finished my longer email. Would you ladies take a look and make sure I didn't say anything I shouldn't before I send it?"

"Of course," Fleur said as she set the coffee down and put the lid on it. "Even if she is a muggle, there are many things you will have to tell her. Many things you can only tell her in person, I believe."

"Yeah," Fred sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't want to risk anything accidentally getting out to anyone other than her before I can get home and talk to her in person."

"It sounds like you have that in hand," Harry said. He turned to Ginny and touched her cheek gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know," Ginny said with a smile. "That'll give us plenty of time to go back to the cafe and send off poor Fred's message."

"I just thought of something," Fred said after the flames died down. "Fleur, does Bill know anyone from the American Embassy?"

"I am certain that if he does not, the goblins do," Fleur answered. "Why?"

"Well, I've already met Mr. Evans, he was in England," Fred said slowly as he thought about his sudden inspiration. "If there's a wizard representative in the American Embassy here, I think I'd like to talk with him. See, Lada's in Florida right now, taking a vacation at a resort while I'm traveling. We live in New Hampshire, which is why Mr. Evans suggested I should visit the Salem School, but we're thinking about moving to Florida. So if there's a school in Florida, it would make things a lot easier for us. Or, for that matter, if there's anyone in Florida who does tutoring."

"Tutoring is probably your best option," Fleur said, nodding. "Most schools are not properly prepared for an adult student."

"Works for me. Ginny, you see anything in the email that I should delete?"

Ginny snorted and sat at the table. "Uh...how do I read it?"

"Oh yeah. I have to wake it up." Fred leaned over the table, tapped the Zaurus screen, tapped in the access code, then scrolled to the top of the message. "Just use the stylus to scroll down with this bar here, like this. Let me know if you see anything I shouldn't be sending where mundanes might be able to see it."

Ginny nodded and took the stylus, then settled in to read.

Date: June 21, 2006

To: ladalaputa.gov

From: prince.fredericklaputa.gov

Subject: Here's the details

You know my first stop on my trip was England. Well, London was pretty much a bust. Big city, crowds, noise, stink, the only interesting place I saw was this really old pub called the Leaky Cauldron, where everyone looked like they'd just come from a SCA event. They make a killer shepard's pie, though. So I only stayed there one day, then I drove up to Cumbria to check out Long Meg. The B&B I stayed at was really nice. Friendly people, really helpful, they told me the best way to get there, where to park, and what the best views were in the area. It's apparently a popular stop on a cross-country bike trail.

So after my escape to the country, you'd think it was nice, right? I WISH! Oops. Maybe I shouldn't use that word any more. Damn. I'd better ask about that when I get the chance. Anyway, I'm out at Long Meg, looking at the stones, when this pack of muggers shows up. Except they're not really muggers. Apparently they were just there to spread panic and destruction. First clue I had was when this bolt of red light hits this guy I'm talking to and he falls down screaming. So naturally, I look to see what's going on, and this jerk in a mask and black robe, like right out of some bad horror movie, starts shooting me with those red bolts of light. Pissed me off. I hit him with my cane until he stopped. Then these two guys jump up and get all excited because those red bolts are supposed to be some kind of excruciating torture or something. Don't know why. I only needed a couple Percocets after I got done beating the guy who shot me. So anyway, the one tells me he's a professional quidditch player (and I still don't know what the hell that means), and the other one is his best friend. And then the magical cops show up and get all excited all over again, but at least they don't try to arrest me. Instead they ask me to meet with their doctors so they can try to figure out why it is their oh-so-terrifying magic didn't hurt me any worse than a trip through Sam's Club.

Anyway, the guys' names are Harry and Ron, and the cop who asks me to meet their doctors is named Tonks. Imagine every hair color Oz ever had on Buffy, all worn at the same time. That's kind of what Tonks looks like. And she's so clumsy, she makes US look like ballet dancers. And she forgot to tell the doctors she's sending me before she gives me the teleport tag, so when I appear in their reception area, the receptionist hits me with a spell that knocks me out until Harry gets there to wake me up. Needless to say, I was not in a good mood when I met the doctor Harry took me to. But that turned out ok. Seems the doctor went to school with my great-grandmother, and all the crap my mother used to tell me about there being seers and stuff in her family wasn't crap after all. I never did get to see her photos of my great-grandmother when she was in school, though.

Anyway, I met Ron and Harry's wives (Ginny and Hermione - Ginny is Ron's sister, and after listening to Hermione when she gets on a subject, you'll never complain about me being pedantic again), and the next day, they took me shopping in a little neighborhood in London that is exclusively for wizards and witches. Except I never got to go shopping, because when we walk out of the bank after changing my traveller's checks, some more of those black-robed assholes pop in and start randomly attacking people. Well, one of the thugs zapped a little kid, and I kind of lost my temper. Ginny said I did a Dragon Slave (Remember that spell Lina Inverse likes so much, that blows up entire villages? Yeah. That one.) and put myself into the hospital. I just woke up yesterday and Harry and Ginny dragged me to Egypt before I was even fully awake, so that the British wouldn't throw me in prison for using unlicensed magic or some such stupidity.

So now I'm in Egypt, I don't know what's happened while I was out, and I wanted to make sure you were ok and let you know that I'm ok. OK?

Oh yeah, we're visiting Ginny's brother Bill and her sister-in-law Fleur while we're here. They're cool people. If I can get some pictures before I send this, I'll attach them, so you can see who I'm talking about.

Oh, and Harry's off right now with a cup of my coffee, getting a professor he knows to analyze it for him. I kind of oopsed and gave Ginny and Fleur some of it, and neither of them are used to drinking real coffee. I never imagined that anyone could react as strongly to coffee as they did.

Ginny began giggling as she read the message. The giggles grew into outright laughter by the time she was finished.

"She's going to be convinced you've gone off your nut!" Ginny choked out between gales of laughter. "Are you sure you want to tell her all this?"

"Trust me," Fred said with a grin. "If there's one thing she won't think, it's that I've flipped. Now, if I'd told her that Thor had snatched me up for a trip to the Pegasus Galaxy, THEN she'd think I'd gone nuts. But this? Nah."

"Thor? Pegasus Galaxy?" Ginny and Fleur asked, almost in stereo.

"It's a TV show reference. Remind me to show you sometime." Fred grinned.

"So what's this about photos?" Ginny asked. "I don't remember you having a camera."

Fred saved his message, closed it, then picked up a card from the table. "This is my camera. It plugs in right here." He plugged the card into the top of the Zaurus and tapped on the screen. After a moment, an image of the room, as seen from the Zaurus, appeared on its screen. "See?"

"Wow! That's cool! Fleur, you've got to see this!" Ginny laughed. "It's like a live picture of the room!"

Fleur wandered over to the table and looked into the screen. "Magnifique! I know photographers who would love a camera like this!"

"Only problem is, it's all digital, so the picture only exists as a data file until I connect to a network where I can print it."

"Did you understand what he just said?" Fleur asked Ginny.

"Not a clue. Fred? Would you mind?" Ginny poked Fred's shoulder as she asked.

"Oh. Right. When I take a picture with this camera, it isn't a picture on film. It's just a memory that I can use to print the picture on paper, but instead of being stored in my mind, the memory is stored in the camera."

"Oh! Why did you not say so to begin with?" Fleur asked. "That makes perfect sense."

Fred shrugged. Obviously, her definition of "perfect sense" didn't quite match his. "So should we wait until Harry and Bill get back before taking any pictures?"

"That's probably the best idea," Ginny said. "Wouldn't want your girl to get jealous, right?"

"OK." Fred thought about what Ginny had said for a minute, then shook his head. Jealous? No. Depressed? Yes. "She's not the jealous type. But it's still a good idea to wait. Meantime, why don't we send off this message? Too bad there's not a teleport tag that'll drop us at the cafe."

"Teleport tag?" Fleur asked, confused.

"I think he means a portkey," Ginny said. "Right?"

"Yeah, I think that's what Hermione called it. I was a little rattled at the time, so I'm not sure, but I think it sounds right."

"Oh! There is no portkey," Fleur said, "but there is a safe apparation point near there. I can take you, if you do not have a weak stomach."

"Well, I don't today, that's for sure," Fred laughed. "But is it safe to carry people when you jump like that?"

"Pfah!" Fleur said with a smile. "It is fine. Only 'arry has a problem with it."

"Yeah, but Harry has a problem with the floo and with portkeys, too," Ginny laughed. "Still, two passengers? That's awfully hard."

"Remember, I am partly veela," Fleur said with a smile. "There are some advantages that come with that."

Fred picked up his Zaurus, slipped the camera card out and a wireless card in, and tucked it into his waist pack. "Well then, I'm ready."

"All right, then. Fred, take my hand. Ginny, take his other hand." Fleur drew her wand and smiled. "Here we go!"

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


	6. Chapter 5: Angels and Aurors

Fred sat in the Cafe de Paris with a cup of tea and his Zaurus, waiting until his mail server acknowledged successful uploading of his email. When the transfer completed, he scanned the messages that had downloaded at the same time and shook his head with a laugh. "Good to know that spam is the same, no matter where you go in the world." A few quick taps of his stylus and the spam messages vanished, leaving behind the few he was actually interested in. At the bottom of the list was the newest message, the one he was most worried about reading. A glance at the subjects of the other messages told him they weren't urgent - some had waited nearly two weeks already, so there was no hurry to answer them now - so he clicked on the message from Lada.

Date: June 21, 2006

To: prince.fredericklaputa.gov

From: ladalaputa.gov

Subject: Oops

Dear Fred,

I'm so glad to hear from you. I've been so worried since I got a call from someone telling me you were in the hospital for doing too much.

That would have caused me enough fretting, you know me. But she wasn't very forthcoming so I wasn't sure if she was really telling me the truth.

I really need to get my last name changed. I think it might help in these situations. I'm sick and tired of being 'just' your girlfriend. No one will tell me anything and when I asked her about faxing the legal documents that we got drawn up so people could actually tell me what's going on she got confused! That's when I really started to fret about you being sick somewhere where they didn't know about fax machines!

So what happened? Were you really in a hospital? How were you treated?

I tried to stay busy so I wouldn't make myself sick. So I did too much and made myself sick that way! laughs I'm hanging in there. Please don't worry. I just need a lot of sleep and that will be easier now that I've heard from you.

I found a house for us but I've been hesitant to finalize the plans until I heard from you. I'm glad I started the process. Do you want input into how the house will be decorated?

Dad helped me measure myself and my wonderful new pchair so I'd know what sorts of clearances and turning radii I'd need in the new place and the house can accommodate all of that.

Love, I was so scared... I tried to stay positive but I admit that I wasn't always good at it.

Please write more as soon as you can. I love you so much.

Friends? You made friends? Yay! I hope you'll be able to keep in touch with them when you come home... you are coming home, right? Eventually I mean.

Thank you for thinking about me. I don't know what I'd want. You got me this new pchair, a spinning wheel, and a lovely place to live. What more could I want?

Mom wants to take me to Disney World. Is there anything you want when we go? She's renting a van so I can take my chair so I'm really looking forward to the trip.

Fred sighed heavily as he read the mail, sat back, and sipped his tea.

"What is it?" Ginny asked. "You don't look very happy with whatever you just read."

"Honestly? I'm not. I'm assuming it's Hermione who phoned her while I was in the hospital, since Harry couldn't sound like a girl if he tried. And whoever it was who phoned her told her just enough to make her worry more than she would have if she hadn't known anything at all. Not only that, she's sunk back into her 'I'm so lucky to have the few scraps I have, I don't dare ask for more' mode. She's even afraid that I'm not going home." Fred sipped his tea and looked into the cup, as if searching for answers in its depths.

"She sounds like Harry," Ginny said softly. "He gets that way sometimes, and until I pinned him down and convinced him that I DID want to marry him, he was constantly afraid I'd come to my senses and leave him."

"Yeah, that does sound about the same." Fred sighed and set his cup down. "Now where did Fleur go?"

"I don't know," Ginny said with a laugh. "She said something about 'finishing a job' and vanished into the crowd."

"Sounds like I don't want to know." Fred smiled faintly. "At least we're not...what did she call them? Arithmancers?"

"Nope." Ginny grinned. "That's Hermione's job. She doesn't turn out spells the way Fred and George turn out wheezes, but she really does work hard at what she does."

"Wheezes?"

"That's what they call them. Everything from portable swamps to candies that give you the symptoms of various maladies that might let you skip classes. Needless to say, their entire catalogue is banned at Hogwarts." Ginny giggled. "And it's the most popular shop in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade? I take it it's near Hogwarts?" Fred paused, then grinned and threw in, "And does the Hogfather live there?"

"The who?"

"Think of him as being a version of the Lord of the Dance," Fred suggested. When Ginny stared at him as if he were insane, he added, "Ok, how about a version of Father Christmas?"

"Umm...ok," Ginny said slowly. "If you say so."

"Tell you what. I'll get you a book that explains it all, as soon as I can find a copy." Fred grinned maniacally. "Come to think of it, I should get you copies of as many of the books as I can. They're VERY British, and might make it easier for you to understand Mundanes. Or, at least, what Mundanes think is funny."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more to it than you're saying?" Ginny asked, watching Fred's grin worriedly. He looked so much like the twins when he grinned like that...

"I'm innocent!" Fred protested, putting on his best innocent expression. "So what do you think? Would I look good in a pointy octarine hat with "WIZZARD" spelled out on it?"

"Innocent?" Ginny snorted. "Of what? And what in Merlin's name is octarine? And 'wizard' is spelled with ONE 'z', not two."

"Depends on where you are, ne?" Fred grinned and tucked his Zaurus away while Ginny rolled her eyes. "I think I see Fleur coming."

"Oh, no!" Fleur declared before either could say a word. "I've seen his expression before. And I've seen your expression before, too. The last time I got involved with such expressions, I was blue for a month! And not just any blue, either! It was the blue that glows like those Muggle lights in tubes!"

"Hmm...Electric blue," Fred mused. "I wonder how it was done. Spell? Potion? Bon-bons?"

"You see?" Fleur huffed. "He is just as bad as your brothers!"

"Maybe so, but he can't even spell 'wizard'," Ginny snorted.

"Sure I can," Fred shot back with a grin. "R-I-N-C-E-W-I-N-D"

"Rincewind?" Ginny shook her head in dismay. "That sounds like the name of a laundry spell."

"Hmm...how much," Fred asked, "would people pay for a spell like that? I can see the ads already: 'Rinse and dry your laundry in one easy step, with MacManus' patented Rinse-Wind!'"

"Bats," Ginny pronounced.

"In ze belfry," Fleur agreed.

"But only the best quality," Fred laughed. "That reminds me. We need to go to that potions shop today to see if they were able to duplicate my prescriptions. If not, we'll have to floo St. Mungo's, and I'd rather avoid that if at all possible."

"Especially since English Aurors have jurisdiction in Egypt," Ginny said.

"They do?" Fred sighed. "That sucks. I was really hoping to have time to properly pay my respects while I was here."

"Pay your respects?" Fleur asked. "To who?"

"To Netjer. I had planned to go to Abydos and Karnak, and maybe see if I could get Dr. Hawass to let me leave some offerings for the people who are kept in the museum. Looks like I may have to skip all that, especially if I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing down there." Fred pointed back the way Fleur had come from.

"If you think you're seeing men with large weapons, you are right," Fleur said. "We should be going now, I think."

"Shit," Fred exclaimed. "One of them is wearing a bomb. Does either of you know an amplifier spell?"

"Sure," Ginny said. "Why...what do you think you're doing? Get DOWN from there!"

"So cast it on me, then. There's still a lot of people who haven't seen them." Fred was already standing atop their table.

"You're INSANE!" Ginny declared, then pointed her wand at Fred and chanted, "Sonorus!"

"Sedreten!" Fred yelled, the spell amplifying his voice until it beat down on every person in the place. Then, without waiting to see if anyone had understood what he said, he pointed at the man with the bomb and yelled again. "Nedesn!"

A transparent dome sprung into place over the terrorists, that sparked with glowing hexagonal plates each time a bullet struck it and bounced off. Suddenly, the bomb-wearer's vest detonated, and the entire dome glowed in overlapping hexagonal plates, that were smeared with body parts and blood on the inside. Fred sank to his knees, dripping sweat, and the dome collapsed, revealing several dead terrorists, blown up by their own associate.

"Apparate?" Ginny asked Fleur as she grabbed Fred's arm.

"Your suite," Fleur replied as she grabbed the other. "We should go...now."

Fleur vanished with a crack, carrying Ginny and Fred with her. Another crack heralded their arrival in the hotel suite's sitting room. They barely managed to get Fred pointed at the sofa before he collapsed and passed out.

"Does he do this often?" Fleur asked, as Fred began emitting loud snores.

"Damn. Hold on a minute." Ginny ran into Fred's room and returned carrying a hose with a sort of harness on one end. She slipped the harness over Fred's head and into his nose, then sat in a nearby chair, grumbling. "Often? No. This is only the second time he's done it. The first time, he was unconscious for two weeks."

"What in the world is that?" Fleur asked, as Fred's snoring stilled.

"His breathing machine. You'd have to ask Hermione about it." Ginny gave Fred an annoyed glare. "What is it with me and stupidly heroic men? At least I'm not romantically involved with this one."

"Perhaps it is fate?" Fleur teased. "You are ze light, around which zey flutter, like ze moth."

"You, dear sister-in-law, have been drinking too much absinthe," Ginny declared.

"What a 'orrible thought!" Fleur replied. "You 'ave not seen ze absinth drinkers. Zey dress in whiteface and clothes from zair grandparents' attics, and pine for 'ze more romantic era.' Pfui! It is not ze era zat is romantic, it is ze person."

"Pretentious gothic nits," Fred muttered vaguely, while pulling his harness off. "How long was I out?"

"About five minutes," Ginny said. "But if you EVER do something like that again, I'll PUT you out!"

"Did it work? Was I able to stop them?"

"If, by 'stop them', you mean putting up a shield so they only blew themselves up, yes." Ginny gave up glaring at him. "It was the strangest shield I've ever seen, though. What WAS it?"

"Only thing I could think of," Fred said as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "An AT Field. They were too far away for a Ravenfield."

"What in Merlin's name is an AT Field? And can you repeat it?" Fleur asked. "We do not have spells that can produce completely enclosing shields. Nor do we have spells that can produce shields that will stop muggle bullets or bombs."

"You...don't?" Fred asked, staring at her in shock. "I'd have thought...Wait...how good are your local aurors?"

"They are acceptable," Fleur said, with a shrug. "Mostly we do not notice them."

"But would THEY notice a sudden surge of magic like that?"

"Very likely," Ginny said. "Bill says they're more relaxed about smaller stuff than the aurors are back in England, but they come down twice as hard on the bigger stuff."

"Like, say, using an unknown, unapproved, spell in the middle of a bunch of mundanes?"

"Shit."

"Merde."

"OK, let's see if this works." Fred stood up, staggered to the fireplace, and took out a handfull of floo powder. "American Embassy, Cairo!"

The fire blazed green, and a feminine head appeared in it. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so," Fred said as he sat down heavily on the floor. "I'm afraid I may have to ask for assistance from the Embassy. Do you mind if we come through to your office? It'd be a lot easier than worrying about the local aurors kicking in my door while we're talking."

"Of course. Come on through." The head vanished.

Fred groaned and pushed himself to his feet, then fell head-first into the fire. On the other side, the first thing he did was grab the nearest wastebasket and empty his stomach into it. "God, I hate floo travel."

"So does Harry," Ginny laughed as she handed Fred some tissues. "But he doesn't usually lose his lunch."

"Give yourself a minute to clean up, then let's see if we can clear up whatever your problem is." Fred looked up at the speaker, a red-haired woman who looked to be in her mid thirties, wearing a smartly tailored navy blue suit with skirt and pumps.

The office itself was a fairly good one, with enough room for the larger size of government issue desk at one end, a fireplace in the center of the long wall, and a seating group of one sofa and four chairs around a coffee table at the other end. While Ginny helped Fred to the sofa, Fleur cast scourgify on the wastebasket. The woman at the desk nodded her thanks to Fleur, then came around to sit in one of the chairs.

"The background to the problem is, I've already had trouble with the British - in fact, they have my passport - and your counterpart at the Embassy in London sent me through to Cairo just before I could be packed off to Azkaban." Fred took a breath and waited to see what the woman's response would be.

"Replacing your passport is easy enough," she said with a shrug. "However, I would advise you stay away from England for at least the next twenty or thirty years, Mr. MacManus. The Ministry is not noted for their willingness to admit fault, no matter how glaring the error, and they've been doing their best to convince the public that what happened in Diagon Alley was entirely your doing. Yes, I know about the Death Eaters, as does every person who was there that day. The Ministry's response to that problem is to state that without bodies, they have no evidence that there were any Death Eaters there. Amazingly enough, they have even managed to sway many of those who were there into questioning whether they did, in fact, see any Death Eaters."

"Not amazing to me," Fred grumbled. "Remember 9/11, Oklahoma City, Waco, Kent State, the Bonus Marchers..."

"So you're a student of history," she said, smiling. "So you know already that the more tenuous a government's grasp on control is, the more force it uses to maintain that grip. In any case, the background isn't the reason for your call today, is it?"

"No," Ginny said, cutting in before Fred could get sidetracked again. "What happened today is. We were at Cafe de Paris when a group of terrorists came into the mall. Fred used some kind of shield spell I've never seen before to trap them in a dome, so when they blew up, the only ones who were hurt were the terrorists."

"I was under the impression that you were untrained," the woman said to Fred. "So what exactly did you do?"

"I got Ginny to use an amplifying spell on me," Fred said, "and told everyone to lie down. Then I did the only thing I could think of. Since I couldn't get their weapons away from them without risking the bomber detonating himself, I decided to throw an AT Field over them to contain the blast. Knocked myself out doing it, but it saved the shoppers."

"An AT Field? What's that?" When Ginny and Fleur both shrugged, the woman turned back to Fred. "Care to explain?"

"An AT Field is a kind of force field that is used a lot in an anime named Neon Genesis Evangelion. The field can only be created by certain kinds of living beings - specifically, angels, or those beings that have some angel in them. An AT Field is impervious to EVERYTHING. Only another AT Field can penetrate it, and then only if it's synchronized to the AT Field it's trying to penetrate."

"And you just created this? Without any training?"

"I had to. It was the only way to save lives. I just wish I knew how to do stuff like that without knocking myself out. Crap. That reminds me. Is it safe for a wizard to use the 'w' word?"

"The 'w' word?" All three women gave Fred a confused look.

"W - I - S - H"

"Oh!" Fleur laughed. "Perfectly safe, as long as you are not in the presence of any being that has the power to grant them."

"Uh...right," Fred sighed. "Note to self: 'w' word no longer safe to use casually."

"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" Ginny asked, while snickering.

"Let's put it this way," Fred shot back. "If you were to pave over 20 square miles of swamp and herd a half million people onto that pavement, then release ONE mosquito, it would find me in the middle of all those people and bite me."

"That's actually fairly common with untrained wizards," the woman said. "We suspect that there is something in the way the magic fields develop without training that is as attractive to them as the scent of blood."

"Interesting," Fred mused. "So what do you...oh, wait, you know my name, but I don't know yours. It'd be kind of rude for me to call you 'hey you', don't you think?"

"True, true," she laughed. "I am Christina Cartwright. As you already surmised, I am the Grey Council's representative in this Embassy. Why don't you call me Chris?"

"All right, Chris," Fred said with a tired smile. "So, since Ginny's already summarized what I did, let me try to summarize the situation. Since I already have one country out for my head, and they've probably sent out a warning to every other country, what are the odds that, when the local aurors picked up the sudden surge of magic at the site of a terrorist attack, they're going to come hunting me?"

"Given how close the English Ministry and the Egyptian Ministry are?" Chris answered, "Really good odds. Good enough that you might want to cut short your trip."

"Yeah. I heard the English aurors have jurisdiction here, too."

"They do. It was part of the Egyptian independence treaty."

"Figures," Fred grumbled. "They didn't want to let Egypt go in the first place."

"You really do not like England, do you?" Fleur asked.

"I don't like government," Fred shot back. "At their best, they're nothing but thugs and murderers with a fancy dress. At their worst, they dispense with the fancy dress."

"Surely, you are exaggerating."

"The Brits want to send me to Azkaban, remember?" Fred grumbled. "And that's not the most outrageous thing I've seen governments do. I could sit here for days, giving you examples of government atrocities, but I can sum them all up in less than a minute. In the Twentieth Century alone, governments murdered nearly 200 million people, most of them their own citizens. And I'm not talking about the people killed in wars, or executed for legitimate crimes, like murder. I'm talking about people murdered by governments for anything from being the wrong sex, the wrong ethnic group, from the wrong tribe, to being killed simply because the government had instituted policies that required they die in order for the policies to go through."

"That's impossible!" Fleur gasped. "Surely people would notice! Surely they would rise up!"

"Not only is it possible, it's been conclusively proved. And it happened because people believe that government is legitimate, that it has the right to do things they themselves don't have the right to do, and that if it does something, it must have a good reason for doing it." Fred sighed and shrugged. "And you know what? It's STILL happening. Over 100,000 people murdered by American actions since 2003 alone, and who knows how many others done in by other governments and their actions."

"You sound like you'll fit right in in our society," Chris commented. "So what help would you like from us?"

"It looks," Fred sighed heavily, "as if I'm going to have to give up the rest of my vacation and go home. Of course, with England holding all my identification, I'm going to have to replace it all when I get home. Unless, that is, it's possible to vanish entirely into wizarding society in the States and not deal with it."

"I'm afraid we're more integrated into mundane society than European wizards are," Chris said with a laugh. "I understand your distaste for ID, but you would have to go out of your way to only travel in wizarding circles, and that would cut you off entirely from your mundane income. Unless, of course, you could work a deal with Gringott's. Even then, you'd have the usual troubles with police and other government officials."

"Great," Fred grumbled. "I swear, the first thing I'm going to invent, once I figure this out, is REAL psychic paper."

"If you manage that, you'll have wizards all over America singing your praises. Maybe all over the world."

"And governments all over the world cursing my name," Fred grinned. "I like it. So anyway, what can we do about documenting my stolen identification and getting me home?"

"The first is easy," Chris said. "The second is even easier. The Salem Institute has a number of international floo connections."

"Oh, good. Then I can get my ID replaced, and head to Florida from there." Fred laughed. "Well, she was afraid I wouldn't come home. I can't wait to see the look on her face when I appear on her doorstep without warning."

"She?" Chris asked. "Wife?"

"I wish," Fred sighed. "Unfortunately, we can't afford to get legally married, due to the Social Security laws. We're both disabled, and if we got married, our income would drop by a third. We're barely making it as it is. If we got married, we'd be living out of my car."

"So how did you manage this trip?" Ginny blurted out.

"Sheer luck," Fred said with a shrug. "For some unknown reason, I decided, for the first time in over ten years, to buy a lottery ticket. I hit the Lotto jackpot, which turned out to be nearly 150 million dollars. Even taking it as an annuity...Oh, good grief! We CAN afford to get married! I'm an idiot!"

"Of course," Fleur said smugly. "It is only to be expected."

"Care to explain that?" Fred growled, glaring at Fleur.

"You have never had so much money before," Fleur answered breezily. "It is only to be expected you do not understand yet how it will change your life."

"Whoa," Ginny said softly, laying a hand on Fred's shoulder. "What's going on?"

Fred took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. After several long, slow breaths, he finally opened his eyes and answered. "Fleur's initial response sounded like my second wife. Except, SHE would have continued by saying that it was only to be expected, because I was male and therefore an idiot by definition. Sure, it's a standard American feminist line, but that doesn't make it any more acceptable."

"Male...idiot by definition?" Fleur stared at Fred as if he'd grown a second head. "People actually believe that?"

"Not only believe it, but make laws based on it. And on the belief that all men are rapists - some of them just haven't been caught yet."

"And America claims to be a civilized country?" Fleur sputtered. "By what standards?"

"You got me," Fred shrugged. "So far, the only advantage I've seen to America is that the Grey Council is the least offensive wizarding government I've seen yet."

"It's still more than most of us would like to deal with," Chris said, "but we're working on that. Our biggest problem is keeping the mundane government off our backs."

"Yeah, but isn't that everyone's biggest problem?"

"Depends on where you live." Chris stood and walked to the door, then stepped out, closing it behind her. She returned after a few moments. "All right. My secretary is getting the paperwork together. Do you have ANYTHING with you to establish your identity?"

Fred opened a compartment in the back of his fanny pack and pulled out a sealed plastic bag. "Oh, good. They didn't get this, at least." He opened the bag and pulled out a small cardstock envelope, a laminated plastic card, and a cheap paper card. "Damn. OK, I should have checked that pocket sooner. They may have got my passport, but they completely overlooked everything I needed to replace it."

"What the...?" Ginny asked. "Where did that pocket come from? Why didn't I notice it before?"

"Because it's designed to not be noticed?" Fred suggested. "Normally, I keep my .45 in there. I figured that since I was stuck being disarmed on this trip, I could use it to stash stuff that I didn't want anyone finding. I just didn't realize how effective it would be at not being found."

"You like a .45?" Chris asked as she studied the documents. "I'm fond of 9mm myself. Yes, this looks good. This will make things a LOT easier."

"At my size?" Fred laughed. "A 9mm would vanish in my hand like a pea shooter. Besides, I wanted a carry piece that would share ammo with my antique revolver. It's just too bad nobody makes a .45 Colt self-loader. Then I could share ammo betwen carry piece, revolver, and rifle."

"Ok," Chris laughed, "you're definitely more into it than I am. Sure, I enjoy shooting, but given the choice between a pistol and a wand, I'll take the wand."

"Which I don't even have yet," Fred said with a laugh. "Do you think learning how to use a wand would fix my talent for knocking myself out?"

"It should," Chris said. "Looks like all you need to complete your processing is a trip down to the photo booth. If you'll follow me, we can get that taken care of right now."

"Sure. Ginny? Fleur? Ever wanted to see what an American Embassy looks like?"

"Of course," Fleur said, "but I should let Bill know where I am so he does not worry when he gets home."

"Floo powder's in the silver can," Chris said. "I'll give these to my secretary while you're making your calls. Mr. MacManus?"

"Fred works just fine," Fred said. "I've never been very comfortable with formality. Always makes me wonder if I'm in trouble. Even when I know I am." He laughed as he followed her out the door.

Fleur opened a connection to her home, only to find no answer. Ginny tried calling the hotel, and found Harry pacing worriedly in the sitting room.

"Ginny!" Harry cried out when he saw her head in the fireplace. "Where are you? What's going on? There were aurors all over our suite when I got back."

"Are they there now?"

"We are indeed, Mrs. Potter," an Egyptian man in an auror's uniform said. "And we are very concerned for your safety. The man you have been traveling with is wanted for a number of very serious crimes by the British Ministry of Magic, and has violated our own laws, as well."

"That's garbage, and you know it!" Ginny declared. "The only thing he did was save several hundred lives without waiting for permission to do it. If that's a crime, then you might as well call me a criminal, too!" Before the auror could respond, she cut the connection. "Damn it! CHRIS!"

"I believe we may be in trouble," Fleur suggested. "Why don't you find Fred and Chris, and I will stay here to see what I can do."

"Unless you know a way to close a floo connection so no one can get through, I don't think you'll be able to help much by staying here."

"We shall see," Fleur said with a smile as she waved Ginny toward the office door. "Now, shoo!"

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


	7. Chapter 6: Everybody Loves Migraines

Fleur waited until Ginny had closed the door behind her, then released a thread of her power and sent it to track down Bill. As much as she would have preferred to handle this herself, she knew she was going to need his help if she wanted to be sure of defeating the power of both England and Egypt's Ministries. There was no doubt in her mind that it would come to unpleasantness before things were done. Destroying the aurors would be easy, but Bill's years of work for Gringotts gave him political tactics she knew she could never hope to match.

The fire flared green, and Fleur allowed her power to flare, feeling her body transform as she did, her human limitations slipping away as she rose on flaming wings to face whoever dared to threaten her friends. She raised her hands to strike the intruders dead, only to pause as a familiar figure shot out of the fire and crashed into the desk.

"I repeat, I hate floo travel," Harry muttered as he dusted himself off. "Would you please dial it back, Fleur? The aurors aren't coming through. Not this time. They don't even know where we are. Yet."

This was wrong. It should not have been Harry to come through the floo, it should have been the aurors. Fleur let out a scream of frustrated rage and hurled her fireballs into the fireplace, snuffing the fire with their power as she reclaimed her human form and sank to the floor, panting with the effort of containing her frustrated instincts to defend her friends.

"Vere are zey?" She sank to a chair and closed her eyes as the headache claimed her, as it always did, when she had to force down her Veela side.

"They went back to the Ministry to try and trace the floo," Harry said as he sank into another chair. "I took a chance and guessed that Fred had had the sense to run for the embassy. Looks like I was right."

"Ze aurors are fools!" Fleur grated out through clenched teeth. "If Fred had not been zair, hundreds of people would have died."

"And this is news exactly how?" Harry snorted. He studied Fleur for a moment, then said gently, "Bill told me about the headaches, Fleur. Will he be here soon?"

"I hope so. I sent a call before I prepared to fight." Fleur looked at Harry, misery lining her face. "Why do we allow such fools to rule us?"

"Because nobody with a lick of sense would want the job?" Harry suggested. "I remember when they offered me the chance to take Scrimgeur's place, and all I could think was that it sounded as much fun as mucking out a dragon's den, and less rewarding."

"My Bill says the same," Fleur agreed with a sigh. "He is happy with his job as a curse-breaker, even if he cannot be at the forefront as he once was. He cannot understand why any honest person would want to be a part of the Ministry."

"This, coming from a man whose father was once head of a department in the Ministry, says a lot, don't you think? So what's the scoop? The aurors claimed that Fred killed a half-dozen muggles with an unknown spell."

"See what I mean? Fools!" Fleur hissed with disgust. "We were having a nice lunch at that cafe where he uses his device to send messages to his beloved, when some muggles with guns and bombs came into the mall. He created a shield that contained their bomb, so when they exploded it, they only killed themselves, rather than everyone in the mall. Ginny suggested I should apparate the two of them back to your hotel room before he passed out."

"That explains the breathing hose on the couch, then. How long was he unconscious?"

"Only a few minutes. When he woke, he realized the aurors would be looking for him, and called the embassy. We came straight here. The witch in charge took him to get a photograph so he could replace his passport. I sent Ginny after, so she could warn them before the aurors could invade."

"And I appreciate that," Chris said from the doorway. "While this is legally American territory, and subject to our laws, aurors aren't noted for respecting such things without being reminded. Oh, and thank you for keeping the fire inside the fireplace. Cleaning up after fireballs is such a pain."

"You are most welcome," Fleur said graciously. She relaxed slightly when her power found Bill safely inside one of the deep vaults. "Would you mind if I made a call?"

"Not at all," Chris said with a smile. "If it will be a quick call, go ahead. I need to prepare my call before I make it anyway."

"Thank you." Fleur stood, using just a trace of power to ensure she didn't stumble as she walked to the hearth and re-lit the fire. "Gorelac's Office!"

The fire flared green, then a goblin's head appeared in it. "This had better be profitable."

"Gorelac, dear," Fleur laughed. "You know my Bill always improves your profit."

"Mrs. Weasley," Gorelac growled. "This is highly irregular."

"I know," Fleur sighed. "If Bill is not involved in something that a lesser cursebreaker can handle, I need him."

"I will have to check," Gorelac said, sounding a bit less irritated. "If it is important enough for you to call him here, I suspect it is something that would affect our profit."

"It could," Fleur agreed. "I am attempting to protect someone who will be doing substantial business with your bank over the next twenty years, if the fools who are pursuing him are prevented from catching him."

"That tells me he is not a criminal, or you would not be protecting him. Very well. I will send Bill to you. Where do you need him?"

"The American Embassy in Cairo."

"This becomes more interesting." Gorelac's teeth showed in an amused smile. "I will expect to hear the full story when this is done."

"You shall," Fleur said firmly. "If not from me, then directly from the man I am helping."

"Consider it a contract," Gorelac said, and his head vanished from the flames.

Fleur's legs failed, and she was caught by Harry before she could fall to the floor. In moments, she was laying on the couch, with a cool cloth on her forehead.

"So how far gone were you when you pulled it back?" Harry asked gently.

"You know that veela are warriors, oui?"

"Mmm...no?"

"When those under her protection are threatened, a veela becomes as dangerous as the Valkyrie." Fleur groaned and reached up to move the cloth a bit. "But when the warrior is forced to not fight, it is as if you were to fly into a stone wall while chasing the snitch."

"Ow." Harry winced at the image.

"Oui," Fleur agreed. "My Bill, he knows how to help."

"Umm..." Harry blushed as he formulated his question. "Will we need to wall off this part of the office when he gets here?"

"If you would not mind. And silence charms would be good as well."

"That's all I need to know." Harry's blush threatened to reach his collar. "We'll take care of it. I promise."

"You are a good man, 'arry." Fleur sighed with gratitude and allowed herself to sink into what relief the cloth could give her.

"This should be fun," Chris commented, as Harry turned away from Fleur to look at her questioningly. "So you're Harry Potter, eh? Welcome to the American Embassy. Sorry it's not under better circumstances."

"What should be fun?" Harry asked.

"The Egyptian Ministry wants your friend Fred. Badly."

"Figures," Harry muttered. "Probably already got a package from Scrimgeur."

"It's a good thing George told me about the situation before Fred called me." Chris grinned and cracked her knuckles. "It's been a long time since I've had a chance to get my hands dirty."

"George? What did my brother-in-law have to do with anything?"

"Your...oh! No, I meant George Evans, my counterpart at the embassy in London," Chris laughed. "After watching how your Ministry handled you and Voldemort, we've been looking for an excuse to mess with them. Seriously, why do you people put up with them?"

"Because they're the government?" Harry suggested with a shrug. "Personally, I do my best to avoid dealing with them at all. All they've ever done is mess up my life. Tried to send me to Azkaban when I was only 15, did their best to turn me into an outcast, when they weren't trying to use me...I have absolutely no love for them."

"And yet you still treat them as if they have any real authority, why?"

"Because I'm just one man, and anything I could do would only make it easier for something worse to come along?"

"That's true, as long as your people believe they need a government. We got over that nearly four hundred years ago, after the Salem Witch Trials." Chris shook her head as she sat at her desk. "Those of us, like myself, who work in government positions, are here only to minimize the danger the mundane government poses to our people. That's hard enough work as it is. I honestly can not imagine why anyone would want to do more than that."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry said with a shrug. "Arthur Weasley and a handful of aurors are the only people in the Ministry who I'd give the time of day. Since Arthur's retired, that's one less."

The floo flared up, and Harry and Chris both turned to face it, wands at the ready. When Bill stepped through, Harry let out a sigh of relief. "She's on the couch. We'll set up the privacy wards for you."

"How bad is it?"

"She was in full warrior mode when I came through. She managed to force it down, but..."

"Real bad, then," Bill sighed, as he moved quickly to join Fleur on the couch. "Thanks, Harry. I won't have the time or the energy to manage wards."

Harry threw darkness and silence charms over the seating area before turning back to Chris. "The fact that she's three quarters human is all that made it possible for her to contain it, but even so, she's suffering from the after-effects. Bill will be exhausted when they're done, but that's not so bad."

"I see." Chris nodded and conjured a chair near the desk. "Since we're going to be waiting a while, why not have a seat? By the way, I'm Chris Cartwright. Just call me Chris."

"Pleased to meet you, Chris," Harry said with a smile. "I'm Harry Potter. Just call me Harry. So what is it like in America, anyway?"

"The last few years?" Chris answered thoughtfully. "Pretty dicey. After 9/11, the mundane government has been doing its best to turn into a cheap imitation of a police state. We've been rushing around, doing our best just to keep our people out of their clutches. Fred doesn't realize it yet, but he's going to have problems when he gets home. Your Ministry is very likely to have passed a filtered version of their accusations to your mundane government, which means he's going to be on the terrorist watch lists."

"After 9/11?" Harry asked, confused. "What's that?"

"You mean you don't know?" When Harry nodded, Chris groaned and shook her head. "And some people still have the silly idea that being as insular as British wizard society is, is a good thing. What I'm talking about is September 11, 2001. Does that date mean anything to you?"

Harry thought about it a few moments, then shook his head. "No. Should it?"

"The mundane government's story is that on the morning of that date, nineteen Muslim men acted together to hijack four different airplanes, two of which they flew into the World Trade Center, one of which they flew into the Pentagon, and one of which was heroically stopped by passengers who, learning of what had happened to the other planes, fought back and forced the Muslim pilot to dive into the ground in Pennsylvania. In all, they killed nearly three thousand people."

"I notice you say, 'the mundane government's story.' Why's that?"

"Because, as you Brits so colorfully put it, it's bollocks. All of the evidence proves that the only way events could have gone as the mundane government claims they did is if there were a cabal of wizards involved in making them happen that way, and our own investigators conclusively proved that there was no magic involved at all."

"So what actually did happen?"

"Nobody knows. Except the people who were responsible. Given how the mundane government responded, and the fact that what happened matches plans written years earlier, by people had just taken over the government when it happened, we suspect that even if the mundane government wasn't involved, it knew in advance and took advantage of it when it happened."

"So...you suspect your own government of being involved in murdering almost three thousand people...for what?"

"As a pretext for transforming America from a free nation into the center of a global empire. Given the mundane government's actions since then, it looks pretty much like that's what they're doing, too."

"And you're not stopping it because...?"

"Precept One." Chris took a booklet out of her desk and handed it to Harry. "They're listed on the first page."

"Don't mess with the Mundanes." Harry looked up, disbelieving. "Are you serious?"

"Totally," Chris said. "That page is our entire book of laws. The rest of the booklet is just commentary."

"Merlin," Harry breathed as he looked back into the book. "I might just have to see about transferring to an American team when my contract is up."

"With your record? I can't think of a team that wouldn't want to sign you. That's in the future, though, don't you think? Of course, with the way Ginny is going, that future may come a lot sooner than you imagine."

"Speaking of which, where is she?"

"Taking a tour with one of my staff, while Fred finishes up his mundane paperwork." Chris chuckled. "He seemed singularly uninterested in joining her for the tour."

"Given his attitude about government in general, I'm not surprised," Harry laughed. "He'd probably enjoy it about as much as he'd enjoy touring a sewer treatment plant."

"Looks like I made my point with my call," Chris said, looking at her watch. "Shall we go see where Ginny is? I assume those two will be at it for a while yet." She nodded toward the darkened seating area.

"As long as Bill's able to move, is my guess," Harry agreed as he stood. "I'll just take you up on that suggestion."

Fred groaned and pinched his eyes together as the petty bureaucrat occupying the passport desk repeated his question about how he had lost his passport for the fourth time. Chris had suggested he tell the annoying punk that it had been stolen from him, and he didn't know it had been until he'd returned to his hotel. Unfortunately, the annoying punk was either full of himself or the procedure for getting a passport was a lot more involved than Chris had assumed. Either way, he was beginning to develop a migraine and his temper was getting shorter by the microsecond.

"As I already told you three times, I didn't know my passport was gone until I got back to my hotel room," Fred grated out between clenched teeth. "I came straight to the Embassy when I found out, because I assumed that the Embassy would be able to help me file the appropriate reports and replace my stolen passport. Ms. Cartwright was extremely helpful when I explained my situation to her."

"Yes," the passport punk replied, "but she isn't the one who determines whether your excuse for not having a passport is sufficient. I am the only one who can determine that. And, quite frankly, your story does not convince me."

Fred closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as he imagined a variety of painful ways to exterminate the cockroach on the other side of the desk. Unfortunately, none of them eased the pain that was lancing through his head as he suppressed the desire to tell the little bastard just what he thought of him.

"So tell me," Fred hissed, "just what does it take to convince you?"

"A much better story than yours," the punk said. "It would take at least five Franklins vouching for you to convince me your story is true."

"At least five Franklins," Fred muttered, flabbergasted that the little punk was so blatant. Five hundred dollars to bribe the bastard before he would process the paperwork. He dug in his fanny pack and pulled out two packs of travelers' checks. As he signed enough to add up to five hundred dollars, he muttered under his breath, "Khesef nebw." The feeling of the magic flowing into the travelers' checks was comforting - enough that he had to conceal a smirk as he handed the signed checks to the little bastard. "Convinced now?"

"Oh, quite," the punk replied as he counted the checks and tucked them in his pocket. "Your passport will be ready in just a few minutes. Please wait outside."

"Gladly," Fred muttered as he stood and stalked out the door. As soon as it had closed behind him, he dug in his fanny pack for a Maxalt and stuck it under his tongue. He knew it would take a few minutes before it took effect, but just knowing it would helped him endure the pain.

"You look like you did at Long Meg," Harry commented. Fred slitted an eye open, winced, and closed his eyes again.

"Migraine. Fluorescents, noise, greedy bastard bureaucrats." Fred took a breath and continued, "Can't take care of the first two, fixed the third."

"Greedy bastard bureaucrats?" Chris asked. "What happened?"

"Wouldn't process without a $500 bribe," Fred hissed. "Put a spell on the checks so he'll repel money. Seemed appropriate."

"Now I understand why Erica warned me I should stay with you," Chris said with a sigh. "I thought she didn't like him just because he's sleazy."

"So what are you going to do about him?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Chris said. "Fred's solution is far more effective than anything I could do within channels. It guarantees he'll do something stupid sooner or later and get caught by someone much higher up the totem pole than I am."

"That's nearly $6,000 I hadn't planned on," Fred muttered. "Would have been cheaper to get mugged."

"Sorry about that," Harry said, looking embarrassed.

"Why's everyone look so glum?" Ginny asked as she walked up and hugged Harry.

"Just lost another...32 Galleons," Fred muttered. "Had to bribe the passport guy."

"No," Harry said firmly. "He's already hexed the guy quite well enough. And with much more subtlety than any Bat-Bogey."

"No?" Ginny asked, while pouting at Harry. "Not even a little one?"

"No," Chris said, while laughing softly. "Trust me, what Fred did to him will hurt a lot more than mere physical pain, and for much longer."

"You don't seem too upset about it," Harry pointed out to Chris. "Doesn't that violate your First Precept?"

"Look at the Fourth," Chris said with a smile. "It seems to me that what he did falls under that one."

Harry pulled out the booklet and scanned down to the third item on the first page. "You have the right to appropriate recompense if your life, body, possessions or liberty are violated."

"It's not exactly repaying Fred," Ginny said, "But it's sure giving the thief some payback for his actions. Is that what you're saying?"

"That's right. The way I figure, if he was that greedy with Fred, and Erica knew he wasn't quite right, he must make a regular practice of this. If that's the case, then what Fred did will really bite into his practice."

"Yeah," Fred said softly, while opening his eyes a crack to see if the light was any more tolerable. "Hate thieves. He's lucky my name's not Vlad."

"Have you taken your afternoon potions, Fred?" Ginny chided when she saw Fred wince at the light and close his eyes again.

"Umm...damn. No. Thanks." Fred dug into his fanny pack, then shook his head and zipped it up again. "Shoulda took it at the cafe. Too late now. Need a snack, most likely. Stomach's too upset. Maxalt should start working soon, though. I hope."

"Maxalt?" Harry asked.

"Migraine medicine. Knocks it right out, if I take it soon enough." Fred carefully opened his left eye, then closed it again. "Guess I didn't."

"Or it hasn't had enough time," Chris suggested. "Medicines don't work as fast as potions, remember."

"Most potions, at least," Harry said softly, remembering his first experience with Skele-gro.

"Either way, too bright, too loud, too many odors," Fred whispered. "Need dark place, soon as passport's ready."

"Not a problem," Chris said. "We'll just hang out here until you get your passport, then we'll get you back to my office and dim the lights."

The door to the passport office opened, and the passport official stepped out. "Hart...oh. It's you." He glared at Chris, then reached back into his office, grabbed Fred's passport, and shoved it at him. "Take your lost soul and get out of my area, Cartwright. You're getting in the way of real work."

Fred opened one eye, snatched the passport from the official, and pushed to his feet with a groan. Harry took his elbow and steered him after Chris, while Ginny glared over her shoulder at the the official.

"Are you sure I can't...?" she whispered.

"No," Harry whispered back. "We don't want the trouble."

"Oh, all right," Ginny pouted, then complained playfully to Chris, "He never lets me have any fun."

"I'm sure I don't want to get into the middle of that," Chris chuckled softly as she led the way back to her office.

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


	8. Chapter 7: Welcome to my Nightmare

"What _are _you doing?" Ginny demanded.

Fred looked up from his Zaurus, where he was scratching away on the screen with a stylus. "Who? Me?"

"No," Ginny snarked. "Your invisible friend. _Of course_, you!"

"Oh." Fred shrugged. "Working on a story."

"How can you sit there so calmly working on that?"

"Got nothing better to do," Fred shrugged and looked back at his screen. "Until Chris gets through to whoever she's trying to contact, I'm stuck here, so I might as well. Otherwise, I'll go nuts from boredom."

"You'll _go _nuts?" Ginny grinned. "What's this _go _you're talking about?"

"Pbbbbbt!"

"Are you sure he does not have red hair?" Fleur asked, laughing as she leaned against Bill. "So what is it you are writing?"

"A story in which Laputa gets a somewhat bizarre group of new residents." Fred scrolled back up his screen to read what he'd written, then back down to add a little more. "They call themselves the Dolcett Society. Not exactly the kind of people most would want for neighbors, but very picky about their membership. I'm writing about what might happen if they got someone among them who behaves the way outsiders would assume they all behave."

"What does this mean?" Fleur asked.

"Ever hear of the _Histoire d' O_?"

"Who has not?" Fleur answered, blushing. "It is...disturbing, but in a thrilling way."

"Indeed." Fred sat back, closed his eyes, and sighed heavily. "The Dolcett Society is much like the society in that story, but more extreme. The Masters literally hold the power of life and death over their slaves, yet the slaves willingly choose to give them that power. Of course, those outside their society believe that the Masters are nothing but vile rapists, and the slaves are their victims."

"So, your story...?"

"Explores what might happen if a true rapist were to insinuate himself into the group, without being found until he attempted to enslave a woman who can not be enslaved."

"That sounds as disturbing to write as it would be to read."

"It is." Fred took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and sat up again. "But it's no more disturbing than some of the other stories I've written about the world after the Bicentennial Dragon."

"So why do you write them?" Harry asked, leaning forward curiously.

"I have to." Fred shrugged, then tapped his head with a fingertip. "The stories are up here. If I don't put them down, they keep bouncing around my head. Besides, the stories are kind of a warning of what horrors can happen when government gets out of control. If even one of them were to be published, I'd feel as if I'd succeeded in getting that warning out for people to see."

"What do you mean by 'the Bicentennial Dragon'?" Ginny asked.

"My stories are set in an alternate world," Fred said. "One in which magic is based on a natural energy, like gravity or radio, that rises and falls in a ten thousand year cycle. In 1976, the ambient magical energy level reached the tipping point, and magic began to manifest in the world for the first time in two thousand years. Most people in the world refer to it as the Bicentennial Dragon, because their first clue that magic had returned to the world was when a dragon that had been hibernating in the swamp Washington D.C. was built on woke up during the American Bicentennial celebration and destroyed most of the city before it was killed. It was, to Americans in that world, like the destruction of the World Trade Center was to Americans in our world. And they responded in much the same way - by giving the government extraordinary powers to combat the supernatural threat. Most of my stories are set twenty years later, when the government has become so powerful that it can safely get away with slaughtering entire families on live television, and not even be questioned when it claims that its victims were inhuman, or sorcerers. Laputa is a utopian state created by a mad scientist, which has only one law: you may not do to anything to anyone else without their uncoerced consent."

"It sounds like a depressing world," Fleur said.

"It is. But at the same time, it's filled with hope, mostly because of Laputa. I mostly concentrate on Laputa, because it's a much more pleasant place, but every so often a story demands to be written that's set in America, or that focuses on the war between America and Laputa, and those aren't nearly so fun."

"I'll bet," Harry said. "War is never fun."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and leaned against him. Harry slipped an arm around Ginny and hugged her tightly.

The fire flared green and Chris stepped out, grumbling. "About damned time. And I thought the TSA was bad! Those aurors have just enough intelligence to be dangerous, but not enough to know when they're outclassed."

"Sounds typical," Fred commented, looking up from his work. "So what did you hammer out with them?"

"The Mundane police managed to identify what was left of the bombers," Chris said, "and identified the explosive residues on their bodies and possessions. They had no choice but to admit you weren't responsible. They're still not happy about it, and I'm sure they'll be watching you every minute you're in Egypt, but they were forced to admit you hadn't committed a crime."

"Well, that's a start. Now I just have to worry about the English aurors."

"Not so much." Chris grinned maliciously. "They were exceptionally unhappy about the evidence I showed them that proved the English had lied to them about your actions in London. A statement by an auror, given under Wizard's Oath, was the clincher there. It seems you have a friend among the English aurors who's unhappy enough about what they did that she's considering resigning from the Ministry."

"Not surprising," Fred said. "She was there, battling the masked bastards with the rest of us."

"Tonks hasn't been happy with the Ministry for a long time," Harry said. "If not for her dedication, she would have resigned years ago. So what about details? Did they give you any lists of requirements or restrictions?"

"That would have been too straightforward," Chris said. "Basically, Fred's choice is to head back to America or realize that if he stays here, he's going to have aurors dogging his every footstep."

"I assumed I'd have police doing that anyway," Fred shrugged. "Given America's reputation in the rest of the world, and the reports I've read from other people who travel in this area, I assumed when I made my travel plans that I'd be putting up with either government officials demanding 'upper paperwork' every time I turned around or having to pay attention to where I was to avoid fundies who'd like nothing better than to make an example of a minion of the Great Satan."

"Upper paperwork," Chris snorted. "An interesting term."

"That's what they called bribery in Turkey when I was stationed there," Fred said. "Don't know if it's the current term, but it's the one I remember. I didn't expect to have to bribe American officials, though."

"You shouldn't have had to, either. But I'm going to enjoy watching him suffer because of it."

"So, is it safe to go back to the hotel?" Ginny asked.

"It should be," Chris said, "but I'm willing to bet they didn't repair any of the damage they did."

"They never do," Fred grumbled. "Still, the sooner we get back there, the sooner we can clean it up ourselves. I just hope they didn't _break_ anything while they were trashing the place."

"So do I," Ginny teased. "Your snoring sounds like an angry dragon."

"Hmm...," Fred mused, grinning. "I wonder how that compares to a chainsaw."

"A chainsaw's not as noisy," Chris laughed.

"Good thing Hermione fixed my CPAP, then." Fred saved his file, pocketed his Zaurus, and stood. "Well, then, I guess we'd better get going. Thanks for your help, Chris. Between you and Mr. Evans, I'd say you've saved my life. Twice."

"Just doing our job," Chris said. "Now, why don't you go on with your vacation, and try not to get in trouble again?"

"As long as I don't run into any more thugs, that shouldn't be a problem. I hope."

A quick trip through the floo and a cup of coffee later, Fred sat back on the suite's sitting room sofa with a groan.

"Gods, what a mess. I'm sorry you guys got caught up in this."

"Don't you _dare_ apologize!" Ginny growled. "None of this was your fault. Harry, could you whip something up for us?"

"Sure," Harry said, walking into the kitchen. "At least they didn't tear apart the pantry."

"I'm going to want to go back to the cafe tomorrow," Fred said, "just in case Lada answered my email. And we still haven't managed to get to that potions master Harry mentioned."

"How many doses do you have left?" Ginny asked.

"Enough for about a week. The sooner I get the samples to that potions master, the less I'll worry about running out."

"Anyone have a problem with curry?" Harry called from the kitchen. "It looks like that's about all we have the ingredients for."

"No problem here, as long as it's hot enough," Fred answered.

"That'll do just fine," Ginny said.

"So, Harry's the cook in your family?" Fred smiled as he asked. "Sounds like my family. I enjoy cooking, when I have the energy for it. Otherwise, it's just something I have to do so we can eat."

"Oh, we both cook," Ginny said. "At least, we do when we can get Dobby to let us in the kitchen."

"Dobby? Sounds like a horse's name."

"Actually, he's a house elf. He's been with Harry ever since he was twelve. He moved into Hogwarts just to be near Harry, after Harry tricked his former master into freeing him." Ginny laughed. "That was a great trick, and I don't think Malfoy ever forgave him for it, until his dying day."

"House elf, huh?" Fred said. "I take it that house elves aren't anything like Tolkien elves?"

"What's a Tolkien elf?"

"Imagine someone as supernaturally beautiful as a veela, immortal, more magically talented than a wizard, and with a deep, mystical tie to the natural world. That's a Tolkien elf."

"Nope. Definitely nothing like that. House elves are about three feet tall and homely looking at best, but they do have their own kind of magic. Most wealthy wizards and wizarding organizations have house elves as servants, to do the cooking, cleaning, and household maintenance. Beyond that, we don't really know much about them."

"Huh. So they're more like shoemaker's elves or brownies, then?"

"I don't know." Ginny scratched her head. "I've never heard of either of those."

"Shoemaker's elves are called that because of a fairy tale - The Elves and the Shoemaker - and brownies are also known as kobolds or goblins." Fred laughed. "Of course, they're nothing like the goblins who run Gringott's. Either way, they're British fairies who watch over a house and the family that lives in it, protecting it and helping them to do all the little things that keep a household running. The tales all say that if you're good to the brownie, it will make your house prosperous, but if you give the brownie a gift of clothing, it will leave and find another family to watch over."

"That's interesting," Ginny said, "because the one way to free a house elf is to give it clothing. That's how Harry was able to free Dobby from Malfoy - by tricking him into giving Dobby a sock."

"A sock, huh? So it doesn't even have to be a lot of clothes? Any item will do?"

"That's right." Ginny laughed. "Hermione spent months knitting hats while we were in school and left them laying around the Gryffindor common room in hopes that the house elves would take them and be free. Poor Dobby was the only one who'd come in because all the other house elves were afraid they'd have to take the hats."

"They didn't want to be free?"

"No. Hermione doesn't understand that. She still thinks of them as slaves."

"Damn. Mundane even for a mundane, huh? You'd think she'd have at least read fairy tales as a kid." Fred caught the odor of the curry and felt his stomach beginning to churn. "Oh, frak. I need to go lay down. Sorry. Migraine's still kicking my ass."

"Are you sure?" Ginny gave him a worried look as he staggered into his bedroom and closed the door. "OK...I guess you are."

* * *

"FRAK! Frakking son of a frakking bitch!"

Harry woke to the sounds of Fred cursing. He stumbled into the sitting room, wishing he could sleep through it the way Ginny did. He found Fred sitting in the dining area, typing on a roll-up keyboard attached to his Zaurus.

"What's up?" Harry asked as he slid into a seat across from Fred. "I heard you all the way from my bedroom."

"Dream," Fred muttered. "Gotta get it down before I forget, and it's slipping away from me as I type."

"Why don't you describe it?" Harry asked. "Sometimes telling someone else helps it stay with you longer. At least, that's the way it works for me."

"Are you sure?" Fred asked. "It's kind of weird. What I call a FITH dream."

"FITH? What's that?"

"Fucked in the head," Fred said, smiling apologetically. "I hate them, because they always mean _something_. And I never know what they mean until _after_ it happens. My mother gets them all the time, but she insists on taking them literally, which _never_ works. Lada has them sometimes, and can usually interpret them for me, but even she doesn't get the meaning until after it happens, at least half the time."

"I...see," Harry said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Fred had dreams like that, and was so used to them he complained about them, it meant he had probably inherited some of his great-grandmother's talent as a seer. Seers were far from Harry's favorite kind of wizard. They had always messed up his life with their visions and prophecies.

"You know what I mean. I can tell." Fred sighed. "Sucks, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "So, want to tell me about it?"

"Well," Fred said, sitting back and leaving his Zaurus untouched, "I dreamed I was you. I was 12 or 13, but only in my second year of school? Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "We started at Hogwarts when we were eleven."

"OK." Fred took a deep breath and went on. "Ron was there, too. We were both spending the night in the apartment of this old wizard, along with all the boy prefects. What's a prefect, anyway?"

"Each of the upper years had a boy and a girl chosen, from each House, to represent it to the teachers and staff, and to keep track of the others from their house, in case of emergencies, rule violations, or whatever. What about the old wizard?"

"He had silvery hair, long enough to sit on, and a silvery beard that hung down to his thighs. He wore half-moon eyeglasses and had a nose that looked as if it had been broken a couple times. His eyes were blue, and when I first saw him, they sparkled, as if he thought spending the night with a bunch of teenage boys were the greatest treat in the world. He handed out hot cocoa and some kind of lemon candies to everyone. I think they were lemon sherbets, but I'm not sure."

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked. "I wonder why you saw him. He was the Headmaster at Hogwarts when I was there. He was..." Harry trailed off, not quite sure what to say. Hero? Mentor? There was so much about him that Harry still didn't understand, but he couldn't help feeling good whenever he thought of him, even if his later memories weren't so happy.

"Yeah." Fred nodded, seeing the look on Harry's face. "There was an old witch there, too. She was Scottish, no doubt about that. She wore square glasses and emerald green robes. I got the feeling she was also a cat, but don't know why. She seemed as if she disapproved of what the old wizard was doing, but didn't say anything about it."

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said. "She's the Headmistress now."

"OK, so far, it's not so weird," Fred said. "But then it got really weird. I looked out the window and saw a couple UFOs off in the distance. I remember telling Ron that I'd always been afraid to look at the night sky before learning I was a wizard, but that I loved it now. Ron said the UFOs seemed to be flashing some kind of message. I looked at them, but couldn't figure out what they were trying to say.

"Then I got distracted by a baby crying. I looked, and it was crawling across the blankets of the bed I was on, and crawled over to this woman I hadn't seen before. She looked like she was starved and beaten, and was almost dead. She had blue blotches on her face, like bruises that hadn't started to heal yet. She was holding a dead baby, that looked just like the one that was crying. There was another dead baby sitting beside her, that looked kind of like the others, except it had scales on its skin, like it was half human and half snake. There was a fourth one, too. It looked just like the other babies, but it was sitting there beside the woman, with a smug smile on its face. The really weird thing about them was that all four looked exactly alike, except for the scales on the one."

"Four...," Harry's face went white. "What else did you see?"

"Are you sure?" Fred asked, reaching out to put a hand on Harry's. "There's more."

"I have to know," Harry said. "Don't stop now."

"The ceiling was covered with writing," Fred said. "It glowed, like it was glass, with some kind of light behind it, and the writing was gold. I was looking up at it, trying to decipher it, when the old wizard noticed and turned a crank on the wall. The crank turned some kind of brushes behind the glass, like he was trying to scrub the writing away.

"Then it was the next day, and we were all assigned to escort new first year students into the school. There was this big man there, he looked like he was half giant, and he looked as if he'd been betrayed, like his heart was breaking because we were escorting the kids instead of him. I felt really bad for him, but I'd been given a group of four kids to take into the school, and a route I was supposed to take them that showed off some of the special things at the school. There were people all over the place, trying to sell things to the students as we escorted them in. I got waylaid by this girl, she looked like she was maybe 15 or 16, was kind of dumpy, her face was covered with pimples, and she had really thick glasses. She stuck a lollipop in my mouth, something she called a Roaring Grape Pop. It was really sour, and when I tried to speak, all I could do was roar like a lion. That lasted a few minutes, and the girls all thought it was funny, so I didn't mind so much. When I got my voice back, I told the girl her sales technique needed work. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like she said it wasn't the only thing she needed to work on."

"That sounds like Myrtle," Harry said. "She's a ghost at Hogwarts. We call her Moaning Myrtle. So, what happened next?"

"I led the girls in through an area of this big castle that had been covered with snow, so it looked like it was the winter holidays. We went outside, over a really big snow bank, and three of the girls tried to wade through in my footprints. The fourth girl was really excited and happy and body-surfed down the snowbank. I remember her name was Daphne, and when I tried to tell her to be careful, she just laughed and said she was having fun.

"I led the girls through a doorway into a hallway, and there were displays that had been put together by upper-year students. I remember one that had a note attached that said it was a sock nixie, and that the seventh year boys were responsible for updating it. It looked neat, like a diorama of a lake with this sock puppet thing swimming across the top of it. That's when I woke up."

"I remember Daphne," Harry said. "She was in first year when I was in seventh year. She was brave, even for a Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?"

"The House I was in at Hogwarts. The school was divided into four Houses. Gryffindor was the House for the brave. Ravenclaw was the House for the geniuses. Slytherin was the House for the ambitious, and Hufflepuff was the house for the loyal. Most of Voldemort's followers were Slytherins."

"That doesn't make sense," Fred said. "Why would a group that was selected for ambition follow an evil overlord? I'd expect them to try to depose him and take their own place at the top."

"He sold them on a line of pureblood supremacy," Harry said, shaking his head. "He was half-blood himself, but he managed to convince them that by following him, they'd be able to eliminate the muggle contamination and restore the glory days of pure wizard society."

"Sounds like another evil overlord from the twentieth century," Fred said. "Just substitute Jews for muggles and you'd have the other one."

"I know." Harry put his head in his hands and groaned. "I hate dreams like that. Would you be willing to talk with a friend of mine? There's a risk involved, but I think I can arrange things so you're safe."

"Safe?" Fred laughed sourly. "Like _anything_ is safe? So what do we need to do?"

"Go to Hogwarts," Harry said. "The divination teacher there is a centaur, and he knows more about interpreting visions than anyone I know of."

"So all we have to do is avoid the aurors, get to Hogwarts, and find your teacher?" Fred asked, smiling. "Sounds like a plan. When do we go?"

"Just like that, huh?" Harry laughed. "You would have made a great Gryffindor."

"Nah," Fred said. "I'm more the kind of guy who tinkers with stuff. But I've got nothing to lose, you know? Might as well dive in head-first as get nibbled to death from the ankles up."

"Harry?" Ginny's voice called from the bedroom. A moment later, she stumbled into the light, her hair mussed and her eyes bleary from sleep. "What are you doing?"

"Talking with Fred about visiting Firenze." Harry rose and embraced Ginny, then led her to a seat. "He had a Vision."

"A Vision?" Ginny asked, her eyes opening wide as she was shocked awake. "What kind?"

"Tommy," Harry hissed softly. "I'm afraid we have a problem."

"Tommy?" Ginny paled. "I thought we were done with him."

"So did I," Harry said. "But..."

"Tommy?" Fred asked. "Tommy who? Oh. Wait. You mean _that_ Tom?"

"I do," Harry said. "But Firenze can tell us more."

--

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, and it's not from Knights in Tarnished Armor, it's not mine.


End file.
